Loran - Smith

Loran

There are so many little things that take place in a football game that can have a big impact on the final score. Let’s start with your team’s offense, where eleven players must execute with fluidity and honed efficiency— which means there can be no breakdowns in critical situations, physical or mental. Nothing like the value of experience in a sport like football.

Many fans play golf, which ought to help with perspective. “Except for my drive on the 12th hole, which hit a sprinkler head and kicked 30 yards to the left, ending up in an unplayable lie, I would have broken 80.” Yeah, and you know the time-honored phrase about, “If a bullfrog had wings. . . .”

Even in friendly matches, legions of aficionados have missed enough threefoot putts in their lives to know that when something doesn’t work for their favorite football team—rather than be quick to point fingers, credit should go to the other team.

They, in most cases, have good players, too. They want to win as much as you do, and they are sometimes the beneficiary of inexplicable good fortune.

How many times would Tennessee not have made the winning field goal when it was in position to win at home in Knoxville two weeks ago? We take those high moments for granted but are never loath to find fault with the offensive coordinator and certain play calls when things don’t turn out to suit.

In Mark Richt’s era, there was a defensive coordinator whose defenses “performed like a sieve” as one seasoned opposing coach once said. Nobody found fault with his work while Mike Bobo’s offenses were averaging 35 points per game.

Georgia won games by outscoring all opponents. Yet, nobody called for the defensive coordinator’s head. If the Bulldog offense were struggling on a certain day, which can happen in football, Bobo got no help from the defense. continued from page

I can’t tell you the number of times when I had conversations with Todd Monken when things were splendid with the Bulldog offense that he didn’t throw bouquets at the defense. He was the first I heard use the expression about playing “complementary” football. To win championships, complementary football must be the backbone of any team.

Mike Bobo never complained, even privately, about the “other” side of the ball. He has never done anything of the sort in the many years that I have known him. The facts are, however, that he seldom got any help from the defense.

The thing that I have never understood is that Mike is a Georgia graduate, who played his heart out for UGA, and he has worked tirelessly in his roles as an assistant coach. If you want an evaluation of Bobo’s acumen as an offensive coach, talk to his peers and former players. Not your blathering nextdoor neighbor who misses all those three-foot putts.

Bobo has something in common with Gunner Stockton. Each of them spent time with the same offensive guru when they were growing up—George Bobo, who happens to be Mike’s father.

When Gunner was six years old, his daddy took his precocious young son to the senior Bobo and said, “Teach him how to play quarterback.”

George Bobo gets that a lot. If a coach in this state has a budding prodigy, he places a call to the senior Bobo. If a father has a son that he wants to be trained expertly to play the position, as Rob Stockton did, he reaches out to George Bobo, who enjoys helping kids hone their quarterbacking skills. He does not have a passing academy, he hasn’t written a book, and he does not charge for sharing his vast knowledge with kids.

I remember a conversation with Sonny Smart, the Georgia head coach’s father, who said that when George held an informal quarterback clinic, and hopefuls gathered with him, “they would throw in the morning and bass fish in the afternoon.” George comes alive when reeling a five-pound bass to his net.

George was a strict disciplinarian, and he required patronage from his son, but he was fair and always underscored teaching. What he passed on to Mike is being handed down to Gunner today.

In the last ten years, Kirby Smart has won more games than any coach in the SEC. It ought to be obvious that he not only expects the best from his players, but he also has similar expectations from his assistant coaches. When I talk to George Bobo, he expresses cogency about his own grandson, Drew, who is a highly regarded lineman for the Dawgs. “He has the feet to play any position on the offensive line.” Bad footwork can be an albatross for offensive lineman.

Critics on the 50th row don’t know about the intricacies of offensive line play, but they are experts at critiquing results. I have a friend, John Withers, who has objective appreciation for the game. Once he was sitting with a friend who was bitching about every offensive call.

As the team was in the huddle—before the snap—John leaned over to his big-mouth friend and said, “Tell me right now what the offensive coordinator needs to call—before they break the huddle. I want to know right now what the team should do.”

Since Kirby arrived on the scene, I soon realized the Bulldogs were in the right hands, and his record supports that view. His tenth team needs a little more seasoning. Who better for them to learn from than the current head coach and his staff?

You never like losing, especially when it is Alabama, but let’s evaluate Kirby’s tenth team in late November when some of those freshmen become seasoned from the hard knocks of SEC competition.