The Untold Story of Georgia Basketball’s Rise: Howl of the Dawgs

For decades, the University of Georgia’s identity was tied almost exclusively to football. Sanford Stadium, Herschel Walker, the red and black sea of tailgates—all iconic, all overwhelmingly powerful symbols of a program that defined the essence of SEC Saturdays. But while the gridiron howled, Georgia’s basketball program quietly simmered, relegated to the margins of campus pride and national relevance. For a long time, Stegeman Coliseum was more an echo chamber than a battleground. But behind the scenes and beneath the banners of near anonymity, something was building—a howl rising from the hardwood, not the hedges. This is the untold story of Georgia basketball’s improbable ascent, the evolution of a program once forgotten and now fighting to be feared.

In the early 2000s, Georgia basketball had brief moments in the sun. Under head coach Jim Harrick, the team earned an NCAA Tournament bid in 2002. Yet scandal would strip the program of wins and postseason chances, tarnishing the little momentum it had. The aftermath was brutal—empty seats, recruiting losses, and years of rebuilding. Coaches came and went, each bringing a flicker of promise that never ignited. The Bulldogs were, for too long, defined by what they were not. Not Kentucky. Not Florida. Not even South Carolina when it came to hoops. Georgia was a football school, and basketball was little more than a winter diversion.

But every program has its turning point. For Georgia, it didn’t begin with a buzzer-beater or a marquee recruit. It started with the grind. Behind closed gym doors, under the hum of dim arena lights, and in the early morning weight sessions, a new mindset began to take hold. It was a culture change, slow and unglamorous. It wasn’t about winning at first—it was about refusing to lose the same way again.

The hiring of Tom Crean in 2018 marked a pivotal moment. A coach with Final Four credentials at Marquette and NBA player development accolades from Indiana, Crean brought national attention and, more importantly, the top-ranked recruit in the nation: Anthony Edwards. The 6’5″ shooting guard from Atlanta wasn’t just a talent—he was a statement. Edwards could’ve gone to Kentucky, Kansas, or Duke. He chose Georgia, and suddenly, eyes turned toward Athens with curiosity, if not yet fear.

Edwards’ lone season didn’t end in a Cinderella run, but it sparked something else—a belief. His gravity as a player lifted the program’s profile. NBA scouts, high school stars, and media outlets began to recognize Stegeman Coliseum as more than an afterthought. Georgia had a player go No. 1 overall in the 2020 NBA Draft. That fact alone cracked the seal on a future that many believed simply didn’t exist.

But Edwards was never going to be a savior; he was a catalyst. The true transformation required something deeper—sustainable recruitment, consistent coaching, and a team identity rooted not in star power but in tenacity. It required rediscovering what it meant to be a Dawg, and translating that from the turf to the court.

The pandemic years tested every program, but for Georgia basketball, it was both a curse and a cleanse. Roster turnover became the norm, and Crean’s message began to wear thin. There were flashes of competitiveness but little in the way of cohesion. And so, in 2022, a new chapter began with the arrival of Mike White, formerly of Florida. His hire was met with mixed reactions—some saw him as a lateral move, others as a stabilizing force. What mattered, though, was that White didn’t arrive with delusions of grandeur. He came with a blueprint.

White focused on structure, defense, and accountability. He recruited transfer players with chips on their shoulders, high-character guys who understood the value of rebuilding from the ground up. There were no promises of overnight success. Instead, there was a demand for buy-in, from players, staff, and fans alike. And slowly, the tide began to shift.

By 2023, Georgia began winning games it used to lose—tight ones, road ones, ugly ones. The team didn’t yet have the flash of an elite program, but it had a toughness, a refusal to fold. Players like Kario Oquendo and Terry Roberts brought grit. Younger recruits began to see Georgia as more than a last resort—it was now a viable launchpad.

Stegeman Coliseum, once half-empty even for conference games, started filling up again. Students packed the lower bowls, chanting, barking, willing the team forward. The “Howl of the Dawgs” became more than a clever slogan—it embodied the raw, feral energy of a program awakening from decades of dormancy.

Off the court, Georgia invested in facilities and staff. Nutrition programs, analytics departments, player development initiatives—areas once lagging behind became priorities. The administration signaled its belief that basketball didn’t need to live in football’s shadow. It could carve out its own legacy.

And that legacy, still in its infancy, is being forged one season, one possession at a time. No, Georgia isn’t yet a blue blood. It hasn’t stormed into the Final Four or won the SEC. But the trajectory is unmistakable. The team’s style of play—scrappy, defensively intense, unselfish—reflects its underdog origins. Every dunk, every steal, every hard-fought win is another decibel in the growing howl that’s rising from Athens.

Part of Georgia’s emerging identity is its refusal to follow the traditional model. While some programs chase five-star recruits exclusively, Georgia has embraced the transfer portal and player development as equally important tools. The coaching staff has shown a keen eye for undervalued talent—players who may not be household names out of high school but grow into stars under the right system. This strategy has allowed the team to compete with deeper, more established rosters.

Then there’s the community. For a program long ignored, the fanbase has shown a remarkable willingness to return. Alumni are reengaging. Local kids are wearing Georgia jerseys on the court, not just on the field. The symbiosis between team and town has strengthened. Athens, always a proud college town, is rediscovering its basketball voice—and it is loud.

Looking ahead, the challenges remain steep. The SEC is no longer a football-first conference when it comes to basketball competitiveness. Programs like Alabama, Arkansas, Auburn, and Tennessee have surged to national prominence. The Dawgs must claw for every inch, every recruit, every ranking. But perhaps that’s the point. Georgia isn’t trying to mimic anyone else. The program is building its own way—brick by brick, growl by growl.

If you listen closely on a winter night in Athens, you’ll hear it. The bounce of the ball, the squeak of sneakers, the roar after a dagger three. It’s not just noise—it’s history being written. From the ashes of irrelevance, Georgia basketball is rising, not with a scream, but with a sustained, primal howl. The kind that doesn’t fade when the lights go out or the banners come down.

The rise isn’t finished. It may never be. For programs like Georgia’s, the climb is the identity. They are the Dawgs, after all. They fight. They scratch. They howl. And now, finally, the world is starting to listen.