(Vol. XII, 2009, Auburn vs. Unibursity of SaBear, Jordan-Hare Stadium)
And Lo, the Whip of SaBear hath cracked, and twenty thousand elephant kneck barbarians howl at the gates of the Loveliest Village. From their slime infested holes they crawl, slithering like the serpents they are upon the land that God calls His own, our homeland, fairest of all southern lands, sweet Auburn. Here, ‘neath the ancient oaks is beauty found, and here, in these hallowed halls of learning is honor taught, and doth all who dwell here seek that which is highest. The vile invaders march head held high in arrogance, spewing their slobbery claims of conquest and Heisman hype. And verily, they mock, scorn, and laugh, and foretell of ruin, rape and pillage on this soil.
By the Sword of Bo and the arrow of Sully, I do prophesy this day, it is the blood of the elephant which shall spill, and the Dwarf of West Vance who shall be slain. The gods of the gridiron hath grown angry, and in their ire hath cried out to the angel of justice to visit vengeance unto the dark Lord, SaBear the Small. He conquers not by skill, nor by honor, but by deceit, a mercenary without belief, enjoined by the betrayer, Willis, whose treasonous act on his mother land hath banished him for all time from the land which gave him life. No man of Auburn is he, and stripped of the helm of orange, and armor of blue.
And Lo, hath the sour strain of soothsayer symphony whined and screeched a cacophony of crimpson koolaid. They follow not the code of battle this day, and giveth not unto our proud warriors even a nod of respect. The eyes of each elephant kneck warrior gaze unto Atlanta, where the jaws of the Gator ready for elephant feast.
Woe unto the warrior who wouldst dishonor the most deadly battlefield, the Battle of Iron, on which the blood of many hath been spilled for naught but the Right of Bragging. The haughty shall be humbled, the rich sent away empty, and only the readied warrior lifted up in this war to end all wars. All else is but mythical, forgotten, a crown of fool’s gold and contrived conquest.
We shall be instruments of the gods’ justice, one day henceforth, and channels of their anger at the Dishonorable Dwarf. We shall rise up without fear, for we fear not death on the Field of Dye, only dishonor. Urged on in the deafening roar of our arena, shall our warriors strike the crimpson beast with apocalyptic force. Depleted and outnumbered, we shall strike the head of the beast, as didst David slay the Philistine in days of old. And as the leaderless army thrashes wildly in vain, shall they be funneled into the narrow corridor of Jordan and Hare, where their numbers count for naught. Into the Tiger’s lair shall they march, and shall they fall by the hundreds.
The victory shall be for good and right, and not for gold and silver, as with the Knights of the Red Club, procuring weaponry and warrior to all who wouldst sell their soul unto the Dark Lord of West Vance.
And Lo, no child shall lead us unto battle, but a King rich in bloodlines, and born to fight, bred to battle – King Chizik. One day henceforth, shall he draw the sword of the righteous, and shall he fight with the strength of the hosts of heaven. And offering not mercy unto the vile and corrupt invaders, shall King Chizik open the gates of hell upon the Field of Dye.
Ready yourselves, People of the Plains, and awaken the echoes of Nineteen and Eighty Nine. In your faces at the Walk of the Tiger shall the ferocity of the righteous show, and in your larynx raging furor shall our warriors find force. And Lo, shall King Chizik enter battle with but fifty brave souls who care not what the enemy forces number. The sacred battle plan is hatched, rested our are warriors, and readied for the task. They battle for honor, the glory of battle, the blue jersey, and cannot be defeated.
Thine eyes shall see the glory of Gus, that gasses the fat bellied crimpson beast, before the next sunset. Battle shall be changed, a new order established, before the wide eyes of swift and strong onlookers, who shall pledge unto King Chizik their enlistment. And the red headed marksman, Boy Elroy, shall be swallowed up in the cyclone of assault, dazed and disoriented in his aim. And on this field of Running Back U shall the heismanly dream of Ingram die.
And lying in pancaked posture shall WhooLeeOh not rise again, and the Ramuh-Jamuh be silenced. And as the orange sun doth set against the deep blue November sky shall the People of the Red Overall in horror flee, and limp tails tucked into the jaws of the Gator. And somewhere in the land of double wides, shall redneck Ricky rant, and rant, and rant. And thousands of toothless trailer dwellers shall hurl themselves into the raging river, their visions of thirteen dashed.
And Lo, the mirth and merriment shall commence, and the Corner of Toomer be stormed, and shall the streets be solid white. And shall victory grog be swilled, cheer-wenches yell, and dance-maidens dance.
Amen.
Manly Tiger
Auburn Tigers 27 Unibursity of SaBear 24
