Georgia Tech Football: Bobby Dodd Stadium

Lyrics

November 26, 1988.
Fifty-two degrees.
The cold from this metal bleacher
bites right through the denim.
Yeah.

Up the ramp.
Fowler Street air tastes like diesel fumes and grilled onions.
Popcorn butter smell sticks to your coat.
Find the number. Section 112. Row 40.
This cold slab of Grant Field steel.
My father sat here. His father, too.
This piece of ground's been here since 1913.
Older than the hate.
But not by much.

This ain't Athens.
This ain't some field out in the sticks.
This is North Avenue. This is The Flats.
The only show inside the Perimeter.
This is our house.
And this hate...
oh, it's clean.
It's old-fashioned.
It's ours.

Way back. 1893.
First time they lined up.
Before the stadium, before the Connector split the city.
John Heisman coached right here.
On this grass.
We built this place on a Midtown ridge
when the rest was just mud and mansions.
This place has roots deeper than Peachtree.

This ain't Athens.
This ain't some field out in the sticks.
This is North Avenue. This is The Flats.
The only show inside the Perimeter.
This is our house.
And this hate...
oh, it's clean.
It's old-fashioned.
It's ours.

Two-fifteen on the clock.
There's the horn.
Steam rising from my paper coffee cup.
Steam rising from forty thousand throats.
A single roar.
This one's for Bobby Dodd.
This one's for the Wreck.
This one's for the city.

Yeah.
We're still here.
Right here in the heart of it.
What'll ya have?
What'll ya have!