“Brent Key Downplays Georgia-Georgia Tech Venue Shift — But Bulldogs May Gain Massive Edge at Mercedes-Benz Stadium”
The decision to move the storied Georgia-Georgia Tech rivalry game to Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta for the 2025 season has stirred reactions from both fanbases and analysts alike. For some, it’s simply a logistical or aesthetic change. For others, it’s a strategic shift that could tilt the balance of power even further toward a program that already holds the upper hand. Georgia Tech head coach Brent Key, however, appears unfazed. Downplaying the significance of the change, Key projected confidence and focus, but beneath the surface lies the growing awareness that Georgia may have just gained yet another key advantage in a rivalry already dominated by red and black.
Brent Key, a Tech man through and through, has never been one to back down from a challenge. His passion for Georgia Tech is evident in everything from his sideline intensity to his words in press conferences. When asked about the implications of playing the 2025 rivalry clash in an NFL stadium rather than on the familiar grounds of Bobby Dodd Stadium, Key didn’t blink. His tone was direct and unfaltering. “It’s still football,” he said. “It’s still played on a 100-yard field, and it still comes down to execution.” For Key, the venue is secondary. The real battle, in his view, will take place in the trenches, not in the stands or on the jumbotron.
But while Key may be brushing off the change, it would be naïve to believe it has no impact. For Georgia, the move to Mercedes-Benz Stadium may represent the latest example of how power and influence can shape the landscape of college football. The Bulldogs are coming off multiple national championship runs, have one of the most rabid fanbases in the country, and regularly pack stadiums far from Athens. Moving the rivalry game to the heart of Atlanta, inside one of the most technologically advanced stadiums in the world, only enhances their brand and logistical ease. The Mercedes-Benz Stadium is practically a second home for Kirby Smart’s squad. They’ve played SEC Championships, Peach Bowls, and Chick-fil-A Kickoff Games there. They know the turf, the locker rooms, the tunnel, the atmosphere. It’s familiar ground.
For Georgia Tech, the move strips away one of the few remaining slivers of leverage. Bobby Dodd Stadium, nestled in the heart of downtown Atlanta with the city skyline looming above, has always offered a unique home-field vibe. The Yellow Jackets may not have the firepower Georgia possesses on paper, but at least at Bobby Dodd, there was a feeling of ownership. A sense of tradition. A connection to their own fans, students, and alumni. By moving the game, Georgia Tech now relinquishes that intangible edge. They go from hosting their bitter rival to essentially becoming the visiting team in a stadium expected to be filled with a sea of red.
The Georgia Bulldogs are not just comfortable in Mercedes-Benz Stadium—they thrive there. Their last few appearances at the venue have been nothing short of dominant, and they’ve used the platform to showcase their depth, discipline, and overwhelming fan presence. When Georgia steps onto that field, it’s often under the brightest lights and with the highest stakes, and they rarely falter. That environment, while technically neutral, has rarely felt that way to opposing teams. It’s louder when Georgia scores. It’s more intimidating when their defense is on the field. It’s engineered for spectacle—and Georgia brings the show.
The optics of the move are also important. For Georgia Tech fans, this feels like another erosion of tradition. The Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate rivalry has always been rooted in contrast: old money versus new tech, classic football power versus urban underdog, Athens versus Atlanta. Taking the game out of Tech’s backyard may blur those lines and further feed the narrative that Georgia controls the rivalry in every possible way. That control isn’t just symbolic. On the field, Georgia has won 18 of the last 21 meetings. Under Kirby Smart, the Bulldogs have suffocated the Yellow Jackets with stifling defense, explosive plays, and relentless physicality. Key’s job is to change that narrative, to flip the script. But it’s a monumental task made even harder when the venue favors the opponent.
Of course, there’s also the financial component. The move to Mercedes-Benz Stadium means more seats, more sponsors, more suites, and ultimately, more revenue. College football, while deeply emotional and tradition-based, is also a business. Atlanta’s premier stadium offers more bells and whistles than Bobby Dodd ever could. And for Georgia Tech, which has battled financial challenges within its athletic department, the potential windfall from such a game could be hard to ignore. If sacrificing home-field advantage for a year can stabilize or even enhance the program’s financial footing, it’s an argument worth considering. But it still leaves a bitter taste for purists who remember when rivalry games were about more than money.
Brent Key’s dismissive comments may have been more about controlling the narrative than expressing true apathy. As a coach, his priority is to keep his team focused, undistracted, and mentally prepared. Acknowledging the disadvantage could create excuses, and Key doesn’t seem like the type to indulge in that. His focus is on toughness, identity, and execution. In his mind, if his team is mentally sharp and physically aggressive, the stadium shouldn’t matter. It’s a philosophy that makes sense in a locker room—but on game day, the external factors can’t always be shut out.
The 2025 edition of Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate could be a defining moment for Brent Key’s tenure. If Georgia Tech manages to challenge or even upset Georgia in Mercedes-Benz Stadium, it will become a signature win—a moment of pride and validation. But if the game follows the recent trend of lopsided scores, it could further entrench the perception that the rivalry is broken, that Georgia holds all the cards and Tech is simply along for the ride. That’s not the kind of narrative Key wants attached to his program, especially as he works to build a new foundation in Midtown Atlanta.
Meanwhile, Kirby Smart will likely welcome the move. For him, it’s a chance to give his team another opportunity to dominate on familiar turf, in front of a fanbase that travels in droves. The Bulldogs’ players, many of whom dream of NFL stardom, will relish the chance to play in an NFL venue. The stadium itself offers pristine conditions: no wind, no weather, and perfect sightlines. For a team that thrives on precision and explosive play-calling, it’s almost ideal. Georgia’s offensive tempo and defensive line depth make them a nightmare matchup in any scenario, but under the dome, their efficiency only increases.
For fans, the move is polarizing. Georgia fans see it as an exciting twist—another way to make the rivalry feel even bigger. Tech fans are more reserved, wary of the implications and quietly aware of the uphill battle ahead. Alumni on both sides may reminisce about past glory, from Herschel Walker’s legendary performances to Joe Hamilton’s near-upset heroics. But nostalgia may not be enough to sway the outcome on the turf in 2025.
Ultimately, Brent Key is right in one regard: the game will still be played over 60 minutes, on the same dimensions as any other football field. Execution, effort, and strategy will determine the winner. But it’s hard to overlook the symbolic and tangible advantage Georgia has gained with this venue shift. They already have the better roster, the deeper depth chart, and the more stable infrastructure. Now, they’ll also have the stadium experience, the likely crowd majority, and the momentum of familiarity on their side. The scales, already tilted, just dipped further toward Athens.
Brent Key will continue to project confidence because that’s what good coaches do. He’s building something at Georgia Tech, slowly but with purpose. And maybe this challenge—the move to enemy-friendly territory—will galvanize his players. Maybe it will inspire a defiant stand, a moment of magic that restores some balance to the rivalry. That’s the dream, at least. But dreams must confront reality, and right now, the reality is this: Georgia looks stronger than ever, and now they’ll be even more comfortable while proving it.
The 2025 Clean, Old-Fashioned Hate game may end up being more than a battle for state bragging rights. It could become a statement about who owns college football in Georgia—and which team has the weight to move not just the ball, but the game itself, on and off the field. Brent Key may brush it off. Georgia, however, may brush past once again—this time in a stadium that feels more like home than hostile.
