Preview: Gator Bowl – Nebraska vs. Georgia

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This year’s Capital One Gator Bowl bowl matchup is failing to light a fire in anyone’s pants, as apathy sweeps Georgia’s and Nebraska’s fanbases.

It’s hard to get excited about a less-exciting repeat of last year’s matchup. The series is tied 1-1 after the Huskers lost to the BullDawgs last year. Nebraska walloped Georgia 45-6…in 1969. Both teams have been plagued by injuries this year. Both teams are 8-4. Both teams didn’t make the conference championship. Both teams lost a few games they really shouldn’t have. WHAT AN INCREDIBLE STORY LINE.

Remember the good ol’ days?

Aaron Murray! Taylor Martinez!

Sadly, we don’t even get to see Taylor Martinez again. I had some hope that he might end up back in the huddle, but alas, he has yet to recover from a slew of injuries that happened when he apparently was hit by a truck or something.

*Not actually T-Magic.

And so it seems that, like all of my birthdays, there will be no Magician on New Year’s Day. There will also be no Aaron Murray. While this makes for less excitement, the Huskers have a little bit better chance, I’d say. But their back up has shown some competence, so it’s no time for the Blackshirts to ease up.

We do, however, have this…

We can also expect a show from Ameer Abdullah, because why wouldn’t he put on a show? He’s a beast, and nearly unstoppable at that. Todd Gurley, is almost as beastly as Ameer, so these two beasts will be pounding it out in the run game.

It’s a glimmer of hope in a game that has failed to really excite anyone. I’d be lying if I said I’m not excited at all. I get excited about the most mundane things, like egg nog or pairs socks that come in packs of eight (16 socks! Imagine the possibilities!).

The real travesty here is that the game is at 9 a.m. on the west coast. Nine fucking a.m.

ON NEW YEAR’S DAY!

The powers that be must not care about hangovers. They don’t care that it is my civic duty to get absurdly drunk before midnight, plant a kiss on my dog, drink until 6 a.m., and incessantly sing Auld Lang Syne at the top of my lungs until I’m locked in a closet.

It is excruciating to get up with a headache akin to splitting wood and spend the next four hours yelling at my TV. The games give me enough headaches as it is. Coupled with the nauseating combination of champagne, beer, Fireball and jet fuel… this game will go down in the books as one of the worst experiences in my life.

They’re just asking too much. THE PEOPLE WANT TO PARTY. GIVE THEM TIME TO RECOVER.

See, it’s not just Nebraska fans. Georgians want to party too. Even if they are drinking out of a Bulldog’s mouth. No matter the vessel, the end result is the same…

This guy is (hashtag) DRUNK. My hero.

Then there are those that will party through the night, toeing the line between party crazy and straight-jacket crazy. They don’t sleep, they don’t stop drinking. They may be on some other substance that’s not alcohol. Delirium is a close friend, and enthusiasm peaks with…body paint?

Follow me on Twitter at @blackshirtfresh so I can bitch about my terrible hangover.

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