Thankful

This is the time of year when we think of those things that make us most thankful. I am blessed to have an amazing wife, great family, and the best friends in the world. I’m thankful to have seen my little sister get married on Saturday to a great guy. I’m also thankful to have listened to our Dawgs win the East that same day. I’m thankful to have good health, a good job, and a good church. I’m thankful for technology. Most of all, I’m thankful to have a Savior who sent his Son to free me from the bondage of sin so that I may spend eternity with him in Heaven.

Today, amidst the long list of things I am thankful for, I am most thankful that I am a Georgia Bulldog. See, by being a Dawg, born and bred, I grew up with Larry Munson being OUR announcer. As I heard someone put it this morning, no matter which team you pull for, everyone loved Larry. Since I grew up a Dawg, I didn’t have to love somebody else’s play caller. I got to love OUR play caller. And that’s worth a lot. Whether you wear jean shorts, lack a few teeth, wear orange 7 days a week or are only good at basketball, you loved Larry. Bulldogs didn’t have to enjoy listening to someone else. We have something that absolutely no one else can claim – the greatest announcer of all time. And nobody loved OUR Dawgs more than Larry. You could tell it in his voice. He was the greatest of a dying breed.

Larry has helped shape many a Bulldog. He’s the main reason I am nervous every time our Dawgs tee it up between the Hedges. He’s why Kentucky and Vandy scare me every year. He’s why a chip-shot field goal seems so tough. He’s why marching down the field for a game winning drive is akin to General Lee leading the Rebs uphill in the snow against a million Yankees. To Larry, it was always an impossible task. And when our Dawgs came through, the moment was one of pure magic. Nobody could do it like Larry, and no one ever will again.

Larry Munson was a staple in my home growing up, as was the case with so many of you. We would have the game on our television set with Larry on the radio. I would listen to Larry on my earpiece when I went to games. Larry is at the forefront of every great UGA memory I have. I’ll never forget where I was when Michael Johnson caught that pass from David Greene to beat the stupid Auburn Tigers, and I’ll never forget Larry bringing that to us. I’ll never forget stomping Tennessee with a Hobnail Boot. I wasn’t around for Run Lindsay, Run or the hundred thousand mile kick, but I’ve heard them both a thousand times.

There are thousands of Bulldawgs who could give better accounts of Larry than I. But this Bulldog will miss Larry as much as any of them. As I write this, I’m looking at a picture of Larry and myself in front of a rural farm pond in middle Georgia. I’m lucky enough to have his signature and a personal note on that picture. It’s proudly framed in my office. That day, as a 16 year old kid, Larry and I ate pulled hog on a picnic table on a cold December morning and talked one-on-one for about 45 minutes about everything in the world. It was a young man’s dream come true. For that 45 minutes, Larry made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. There were others around, and he would occasionally shake a hand or say a small hello, but he would turn back to me and continue talking. I’ll never forget that time I spent with him that cold December morning. It was a Friday, and I remember vividly listening to Larry on the radio the next day call the Dawgs home to victory over the team he hated the most, the Yellow Jackets from North Avenue. My dad was jealous that I was able to corner Larry for that long. I’m still not sure why he gave me that audience, but it was a day that will be etched in my memory forever. That day was a turning point in my Bulldog development. 

If there was a Mount Rushmore of the University of Georgia, Larry Munson would be proudly carved in the middle of that monument. He was, simply put, the greatest of all time.

Thanks, Larry.

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