Night, Night
Bob Wischusen — ABC on ESPN play-by-play
"Kearis Jackson is heating up this field! Off the Stiff-Arm! He turns the corner, accelerates up the sideline—and Georgia winds up with fantastic field position! What a start for the Dawgs!"
We're a good team.
And I mean that in the most literal sense possible. If anyone asked me how we became one, I'd give them a simple answer: we have an incredible head coach.
That's not lip service. There'd be no reason to say it if it were. Some people claim we simply stockpiled great talent, but the football program Coach brought with him to Georgia is responsible for the single largest share of our success.
In college football, a head coach's job is far broader and more complicated than an NFL coach's. Hiring a staff that fits your philosophy is roughly the same at either level, but the college game adds personnel work headlined by recruiting, on top of managing the academics and conduct of every player on the roster.
And in that respect, Coach is genuinely in a league of his own. Even in my past life, I never met anyone like him.
From his arrival in Athens in 2016 to this very day, he has always climbed step by careful step, making the right call at the right time. After spending his first three years laying the foundation, he boldly reshaped the defense first to reach for higher ground—and once that bore fruit the following year, he finally came for me. And the moment I committed, he judged that Coach Monken was the man best suited to maximize my style and brought him in as offensive coordinator.
A football team numbers close to a hundred players; one man running it alone is practically impossible. Which is exactly why bringing in coaches who share your vision matters so much.
That is how Georgia transformed. This team is Coach's creation.
"Now listen carefully, Moi."
"…"
"KJ is starting in a great spot. So make it count. Got it? Go out there and do what you do best. Don't settle for a field goal—take a touchdown."
"Yes, sir."
With Coach's encouragement pushing me forward, I stepped onto the field.
Georgia Tech had taken the opening drive, but they never escaped the shadow of their own end zone and promptly punted the ball away. The defenders who'd swarmed their offense early had built up momentum, and if I drove us straight down for a score, the whole game's flow would slip effortlessly into our hands.
Thirty-six yards to the end zone. We'd start on the ground.
Two running backs on the field. We opened in a 2-1 package.
"GO, RED 80—!!"
Georgia Tech's pass defense ranked middle of the pack nationally, but their run defense was barely scraping out of the bottom tier—so I wanted to shake them loose with the ball carrier first.
James Cook lined up on the right. McIntosh was in the left slot. Before the snap, I sent McIntosh in jet sweep motion toward the right, exactly as the play was drawn.
"READY!! SET!!"
Sedrick's snap arrived clean and steady. I faked the handoff to James Cook, then flicked a screen pass over my shoulder to McIntosh, who had swung around behind me and curled toward the right.
Because we'd designed the play from the ground up, Georgia Tech's left-side defense had been intentionally thinned out. First, tight end Brock ran a go route downfield. Ladd, stationed on the right, ran a shallow route across the middle to drag his corner away. On the left, we kept AD—currently our No. 1 receiver—and James Cook, selling the run fake, also released left.
By the time James Cook actually hauled in the pass, the defense was draped far behind him, and picking up ten yards was effortless.
First down, one play. Georgia Tech's last drive had managed six yards on three tries; we'd gained ten on our very first.
Then the personnel changed. A 1-2 package: Zamir in at running back, Brock and Darnell doubling up at tight end. The wideouts stayed the same.
AD and Ladd.
Talking about the freshman receiver duo that had earned recognition far beyond the SEC, the media had been saying, "Kirby Smart's eye for talent is shining once again."
Nobody lands every recruit, but the media's assessment wasn't wrong—Coach's eye for players is truly special. He turns 3-stars and 4-stars into national-caliber talents. In 2017, effectively his first true recruiting class at Georgia, the 3- and 4-star kids he brought in now carry major weight on this roster. In 2018 he took Jordan Davis—a player the major programs had overlooked—and developed him into a future first-round NFL talent. That same year, 3-star tight end John FitzPatrick made it to the NFL this season, and guys like KJ, James Cook, Azeez Ojulari, and Trey Hill were all 4-stars. The 3- and 4-star class of 2019, too, has been raised into players the whole country now talks about.
Sure, similar stories play out at nearly every college in America. But no program produces transformations this dramatic.
Just look at now. Ladd came in last year as an 85-rated 3-star wideout, saw no path to playing time, and sat out a redshirt season. But Coach spotted his talent instantly, and after an intensive regimen last year and through this summer, Ladd has grown into the team's No. 2 receiver. AD was an 89-rated 3-star on signing day, too—yet anyone watching him now would swear he was a 5-star recruit.
Of course, that's not to say 5-star classes flop often. Highly rated prospects usually deliver on expectations.
The quarterback position had been a mild disappointment, is all.
Well.
That's been rectified. Because of me.
From under center, I scanned Georgia Tech's defense and flagged the blitzer to the O-line by number. Center Sedrick extended his left hand and pointed the man out precisely, and when I saw the guards' hips shift slightly, I trusted the pocket was protected and called the play again.
"RED 22!! TURBO, SET!!"
I took the snap and turned to run—the play action. Zamir had been bait from the very start, and per the design, I looked for my first read: Brock.
There he is. Found him.
Right beside Brock, parked just shy of the end zone, one of Georgia Tech's safeties was watching me like a hawk. Throwing there felt like a coin flip between six points and a pick, and there was no reason to gamble on the game's opening drive. So as I turned my eyes toward my second read, the middle of the field split open and a defender came lunging at me.
Nice try.
I snapped my shoulder up and shed the #0 reaching for me with both arms stretched long, then escaped the pocket before he could wrap me up and took off for the right sideline.
And Ladd—instead of standing still—was suddenly sprinting left.
Diligence. That's the kid's greatest strength. Most receivers run their routes beautifully, but they have a real weakness when the play breaks down: what to do afterward. Granted, holding your spot can help by not creating confusion—but that only applies when the quarterback needs you where you are. If your QB reads the field and improvises as well as I do, receivers should keep their heads up and drift toward the open grass.
The moment Ladd started moving, Georgia Tech's #7 corner and #2 safety gestured at each other—handing the responsibility back and forth until it simply evaporated. With two defenders orbiting him one second and none the next, Ladd found freedom. I glanced left, confirmed nobody had entered my field of vision, and rotated my upper body.
Throwing window: open.
Not overhand—a sidearm.
I chose baseball as a kid to learn how to truly throw, and that education included making the sidearm release feel natural. Most quarterbacks can only sidearm it over short distances, but my ball covered thirty-plus yards in a flat, furious line.
True, it wobbled a touch more side-to-side than an overhand throw would have. But it settled into Ladd's chest without the slightest difficulty.
Touchdown.
As Ladd launched into his celebration, I turned toward the bench, raised my right hand high, and spread two fingers. Two plays. Two plays to a touchdown.
Bob Wischusen
"THIS is the quality of Georgia's offense! First down on the ground, and then—on the very next First & Ten—one pass for a touchdown! 6-0, Georgia! Ladd McConkey's ninth touchdown of the season! Dwayne Moi Stone has delivered right out of the gate!"
Dan Orlovsky — ABC on ESPN analyst
"Look at this rep. He keys the tight end first, sees the bracket coverage, abandons it—and once the pocket collapses, he evades the tackle and creates on the move. And just watch this throw. It's unreal. From thirty-plus yards back, sidearm, into the end zone—and it comes out with the velocity of an over-the-top delivery. Look at this. W-o-w."
Bob Wischusen
"He's the leading favorite to win a second straight Heisman Trophy. And that—that—was simply a magnificent play."
"THAT'S what I told you!! THAT'S what I said!"
"I KNEW you had it in you!!"
Half of Bobby Dodd Stadium had gone silent. I glanced around—everyone looked like they'd taken a hammer to the sternum. Or like they'd suddenly swallowed something that wouldn't go down.
Georgia Tech's opening drive, punt included, had taken two minutes and twenty seconds—and even that was blazingly fast by their standards. The clock now read 11:35.
Sixty-five seconds. That's all the scoring drive had taken.
After celebrating with Ladd and jogging back to the sideline, George—finally prepped and ready for his season debut today—came up to me.
"You stole my chance."
"There'll be a next one."
I suspect that if we'd failed to convert on that first down, Coach would have sent George in. Right now this team has elite freshman receivers in AD, Ladd, and Brock, while JB keeps playing to his strengths and delivering quietly brilliant performances just as he did last year. Over the past few games Darnell has kept popping up to create constant mismatches as a receiver, and KJ is always ready to hit the field whenever we need speed.
And now George on top of all that.
Weapons to spare.
"Something wrong with you?"
"Huh?"
"You're grinning like an idiot."
"Ah, haha. Just—happy, I guess."
Having this many weapons as a quarterback is like drawing a fistful of jokers onto your hand at the card table.
So tell me—how could I not smile?
"Get ready, Coach. We're scoring all day today, too."
"Let's see if it actually goes your way."
"I guarantee it. We're going to do this right."
"Heh. That's the spirit."
A 7-0 start, almost before anyone could blink.
And we had a great deal left to show.
Bob Wischusen
"Launched toward the end zone—! Dwayne Moi Stone's pass looked like it had a guidance system on it! Touchdown! Jermaine Burton!"
Dan Orlovsky
"Watch the safety here. He's split by the tight end. That opens up all that space downfield, and Jermaine Burton attacks it—Dwayne Moi Stone drops it in beautifully."
Bob Wischusen
"Screen pass to McConkey. He bursts straight for the edge—hunting for the pylon—and he finds it! Touchdown!"
Bob Wischusen
"OH, HE DID IT AGAIN—!! LADD MCCONKEY!! That's three touchdowns in a single game—the first of his college career!! This is a hat trick! Dwayne Moi Stone, with the thirty-three-yard passing touchdown—that's his fourth scoring strike before the second half has even begun!"
Dan Orlovsky
"Dwayne Moi Stone and Georgia simply have too many weapons. They leaned on the quarterback's legs and their tight ends driving out of their own territory, and the instant a scoring window opened, they went straight for the corner. Beautiful."
Bob Wischusen
"They're at the Georgia 25. Second & Ten. Three men release downfield—and there's Brock Bowers on the slant. The pass is delivered. WATCH that tight end run!! The freshman just found another gear!! TOUCHDOWN! Wow! A seventy-seven-yard reception touchdown!"
Watching the faces of the Georgia Tech faithful—stripped of every last dream and hope—was genuinely entertaining.
But it wasn't over yet.
"GO, RED 80—!! READY!! SET!!"
Just shy of the red zone, we ran an RPO. I took the shotgun snap, turned immediately to my right, and handed the ball to Zamir. He stabbed into the gap between the linemen and ground out four yards, and with the red zone reached and the chains moved, our march continued.
Eighteen yards to the end zone now. I signaled to the bench.
Personnel needed: 1-2 package. James Cook replaced Zamir, and Darnell sprinted onto the field from the sideline.
Then the huddle formed.
"Gun. I-Left Snug. Twin Cross Hawk. Wendy Shift Z Easy."
Clap!
Gun—shotgun snap. I-formation. I-Left Snug, the blocking scheme. Twin Cross Hawk, the RPO concept. Wendy Shift Z Easy, the route combination.
We broke the huddle and took our spots. Surveying Georgia Tech's alignment, I found nothing worth adjusting and readied the call.
"GO, RED 80—!! READY!! SET!!"
As I said before—Georgia Tech's run defense is bad. Just barely exempt from outright awful.
Twin Cross Hawk. An RPO concept where the running back is stationed to my right or left and sent moving in the opposite direction, with the quarterback deciding who carries the ball. Entirely my call. If the defense in front of me looked soft when I turned to hand it off, I pulled the ball, faked the exchange, and ran it myself. The name says it all—RPO is a scheme built on leaving both the run and the pass in the quarterback's hands.
I took the snap, rotated right—and the defense in my line of sight looked porous.
Then again, maybe it was wishful thinking.
The truth is, I was getting impatient. Given the score, this third quarter would probably be my last work of the day, and I wanted—needed—to plant a touchdown in the turf with my own legs before it ended. This drive was a golden opportunity, and I tested the possibility through the RPO.
"…"
I could take it. That was my read.
I shoved the ball into James Cook's gut—then ripped it back out and tore off for the right pylon.
Fortunately, the defense had keyed on James Cook and the George-Brock pairing I'd set up on the left. On my side of the field, exactly one defender remained: the #7 corner AD was gripping like a tackle dummy.
Keep holding him right there.
As if he'd heard the voice in my head, AD swallowed #7 up completely, and after looping around behind him I strolled into the end zone without a soul touching me.
Bob Wischusen
"TOUCHDOWN—! Dwayne Moi Stone says: this time, I'll do it myself. I can run just fine too, thank you very much. And he proves it with the utmost ease."
The moment I scored, I rolled the ball gently onto the turf, brought my neatly stacked palms up to the right side of my head, and tilted them—the picture of someone drifting off to sleep.
Was CM Punk watching this?
Night, Night.
Night, Night, GTU.
Finished with the celebration, I looked out at the stunned Georgia Tech fans dead ahead and gave them a little wave—safe travels, everyone.
Behind me, my teammates came crashing in.
"WOOOOOAH—!!!"
"LET'S GO!!!"
A thoroughly one-sided edition of Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate.
Their nightmare was far from over.