I went through one of the biggest disappointments of my life last week, and that's okay. As a member of the Redcoat band here at Georgia, I have devoted countless hours supporting the red and black, and my God, our work had certainly paid off this historic season. I had been to Notre Dame, cried at Auburn, and won it all back during the SEC Championship and the greatest Rose Bowl in the history of the sport. We had done something that hadn't been achieved in a generation: we were going to face Alabama at the national championship. Words could barely describe my feelings as I saw my beloved Georgia "G" plastered throughout all of Atlanta, and the encouraging words of fans put me on cloud 9 all the way to the Mercedes-Benz stadium. But then, things dramatically changed. I managed to contract the flu during one of the greatest moments of my young life and on top of all that....we lost. I had participated in 13 games, more than 200 hours of my life just dashed by a rogue play in overtime. And yet, after I came out of my near depression of losing to Alabama once again, I realized something: all those sayings of the journey were more important than the destination were absolutely true. The places I've been, the things I did, and the memories I made were all far more important than a gold trophy. The rage I felt will fade away in a few weeks, and all I'll remember will be the good times I had with my friends rooting for the team I love. We may not have achieved everything we wanted to, but I will never forget the 2017 football season. Thank you, Georgia, for one hell of a ride. If nothing else, this Redcoat will be changed forever because of it.