The Time I Met Mark Richt (why this win matters)

So, since the glorious and stunning victory the Yellow Jackets achieved against u(sic)ga saturday, I've gotten several snippy, borderline hostile, DMs on social media about how I didn't talk trash until after the game was over and assorted other nonsense. And I'll admit, since I've gotten married and gotten some other things going, the rivalry between Georgia Tech and u(sic)ga doesn't have the priority to me that it once had. Then I started reading various posts on social media about how Kirby Smart has a "short leash" and how "disappointed" some fans were in Kirby. Then I remembered that this was the man they stabbed Mark Richt in the back for. And the more I thought about the kind of man Mark Richt is, the more irritated I got.

It was 2011. Maybe 2010. Whatever year it was u(sic)ga came within 10 yds. of winning the SEC against Alabama. That year. It was not long after that game, actually. I was working at a restaurant at the junction of 75 and 285 in Smyrna that doesn't exist anymore, so I'll leave out the name. It was a sunday night, which in the restaurant biz means either "OMG I'M SO BUSY KILL ME NOW!!!" Or, "OMG I'M SO BORED KILL ME NOW." I was having one of the latter nights when the door opened and a party of six walked through our front doors. It was about 90 minutes 'til close, so I had sidework and a tall Corona Light on my mind (hey, this was a while ago) when I recognized my customer. "Great," I thought, "Mr. Spray-Tan Preacher Man himself is here to throw my routine off." I remember chuckling at a joke he made about how slow we were, then I took them to a table far away from the windows, so no onlookers would happen across the coach and his family. I smiled my best "trying not to strangle everyone you love" smile and introduced myself. I noticed right away that every one of his children (the ones that were with him, anyway. IDK if it was all of them or not) looked me in the eye and said "please" when they ordered their own drinks. There were no iPads or other diversionary devices for their kids. They talked like a family, each getting a turn. He asked if I watched much football, probably because I stopped briefly to watch an NFL play of little consequence and I responded bashfully "I'm actually a Tech fan." His wife and he both smiled. "I know," I continued, "but it's where my heart is." 

He could have needled me or talked down to me or not said anything at all. He was a customer, one of the most famous ones I could've had at that point, and I was at his mercy. But he was gracious and self-deprecating. "We sure got lucky against you guys this year." Full disclosure; he may have said "y'all." I can't remember. That may have been the year the yran us out of Sanford & Son, but you'd have never known it. He went on to say several complementary things about Paul Johnson. "That offense keeps me awake at night" and then his kids all ordered their own food, each looking me in the eye, calling me sir, and saying "please." I brought out his families' orders some time later, and when everything was settled, he nodded, said "everything looks perfect," and invited me to join them for the blessing. This was a man who I once regularly said things about so hostile that my mom once LITERALLY called me and said "(Mayor), you HAVE TO stop." Because the Richts were my only table, I got a chance to talk with his family and he about lots of things. Faith, football, what I was studying. At the end of the meal, when I brought his check, he stood up, shook my hand, and handed me enough cash to rate somewhere between "NICE" and "i'm taking next week off" on the gratuity scale. He wished me luck in my studies, thanked me again for the fantastic service, and he and his family went about their way. This man won as many games at university of georgia than any man not named vince dooley, and he treated me like an equal. And georgia fans SCREAMED for his firing because they think national championships are something that grow on trees. The same fans that once sang the praises of their coach and how much they loved that he was a man of deep and abiding Faith now wanted him gone ASAP. So they canned this A+ human being (And A to A+ football coach) so they could sell their souls to some smug Saban errand boy with no resume to speak of because they were SO SURE that this man would take them to the promised land that they didn't stop to think about Mark Richt the man. Kids left his program changed for the better, whether they played in the NFL or not. Life is about more than W's and L's. It's not just your away record against Tennessee or where your recruiting classes are ranked (although let it be said; Mark Richt was a fantastic recruiter, and doesn't get nearly the credit he deserves for that). It took me a long time to realize that, and though I only crossed his path once, Mark Richt was a man that showed me that. After what I saw from Kirby's coaching skills this year, I hope he's at u(sic)ga for the next decade, flailing on the sidelines like a petulant child who's just had his prized toy taken away from him. I'll enjoy watching Paul Johnson slowly crush his will to coach (once upon a time, I'd have substituted "live" for "coach", but it's not that serious anymore) and smile with glee as u(sic)ga fans ask themselves where they went wrong.  You had a man you could be proud of, and you traded him in for a guy who won't get you anywhere close to where you want to be, and at the end of the day, Mark Richt will care far less about W's and L's than you. And he still will have won.