At times like these, even I, like you mere mortals, can succumb to the borderline psychotic feeling that the world’s events truly do revolve around just me, and a devastating loss can feel very personal, almost as if “we†lost just to hurt me. Then I put the bong down, get out of my bean bag chair, wipe the cheetos off my chest and realize that it’s already Thursday and it’s FRICKIN’ MICHIGAN WEEK. So all you namby pamby mama’s boy’s who probably have never lined up on a football field let alone felt the repeated snap of a hand bone that was broken in the first quarter yet you’re still fighting and clawing for one more yard in the fourth quarter, can all just kiss my black and gold a$$, cause I’m putting Minnesota in the rearview mirror and heading for Kinnick this Saturday to Whoop and Holler until my throat bleeds and then if the ghosts of Evy, Cal Jones and Kinnick deem we deserve it, they will bestow a victory on us.
Being a Hawkeye is for the Faithful, not the faint.
I will bleed black and gold unconditionally until my last breath and if you’re not with us 100%. You’re against us, and yes, only a true HAWKEYE speaks in absolutes.
Now go say 20 “In Kirk we Trusts†and start tailgating. It’s later then you think.
ON IOWA! BEAT MICHIGAN!
Being a Hawkeye is for the Faithful, not the faint.
I will bleed black and gold unconditionally until my last breath and if you’re not with us 100%. You’re against us, and yes, only a true HAWKEYE speaks in absolutes.
Now go say 20 “In Kirk we Trusts†and start tailgating. It’s later then you think.
ON IOWA! BEAT MICHIGAN!
