Even though it was only with two minutes left, I can't remember ever in my life walking away before the game ended.   I had no stomach for so much as a passing glance at SOS when it was all over.  My white hot hostility toward SOS dimmed a while back as we racked up trophies and our own coach proved to be my kind of guy.   Softened anger or not there still has been no love lost as I waited for Spurrier's eventual retirement and return to the flock.  I would rather have Urban Meyer six days a week and twice on Sunday but, being honest, I can see Spurrier taking joy at beating us, even US, simply because, from his point of view, we spurned him and he can get the last word by beating us.  Logically, I am fine with that because I know it's human nature and I would probably feel the same way in some respects.  And that is fine, logically.  But when I read here about what happened when I walked away, I was very, very thankful my survival instincts, slowly honed from game to game this season, rose to the occasion last night.  When it was time, I walked away.  And so I missed the shoulder carrying and I missed "God smiling on the Gamecocks."  And it's a damn good thing I did because even reading it here and picturing it in my mind makes me sick. 

Despite a couple of flashes of childlike optimism cultivated over a lifetime of good cheer and ten years of reading JimmyV posts, I knew going into the game there was a good chance we would lose and even lose like we did.  I knew beating UGA and Vandy was not a barometer of much at all.  I also knew that if we managed to win last night, the odds of pulling an upset in Atlanta were extremely remote.  As a consequence, I was able to watch the game in a detached way, as I had for several weeks this fall.  I'm trying to remember when I first began to be detached but the nature of detachment is its ability to blur out the details of unpleasant past events.  I could guess it was about seven minutes into the Alabama game but I can't be sure.  Maybe the detachment is simply maturity or wisdom or just convenience but, regardless, it is palpable (if detachment can be palpable).  Since then, my detachment has deepened and, thankfully, joined by a second survival instinct - distraction.

Detachment without distraction is misery.  I've watched every game this season as in all seasons past and yet to come, but without the emotional investment and without the untold hours from Sunday to Saturday dissecting every word written or spoken about Gator football.  Not being the depressed type, that void needed filling.  Distraction was sorely needed.  It came in the form of a new hobby dropping out of the sky at the perfect time.  A hobby that came with all the same accoutrements of following Gator football.  Articles, podcasts, youtubes, books, gear, guides and even message boards.  And do I have done some hiking and begun to plan a trip that requires as much time and energy as I feel like throwing into it and I have enjoyed it immensely and intensely and I have been distracted.  Nothing widens a man's horizons like a down year for the Gators.  I imagine Leonardo Da Vinci's favorite jousting teams really sucked.

So last night, with a couple of minutes to go in the game, I walked away from the TV and into my garage.  I grabbed my hammock and a sleeping bag, built a fire, poured myself a drink and laid there until I fell asleep to the sounds of screech owls and the occasional neighborhood dog.  I woke up two hours later to a light drizzle, took down my hammock and went back into the house to bed.

Anyway, here's to hoops.  I am ready to kick some Ohio State ass.