BRFC Earns the Elusive
BRFC Earns the Elusive
Parc-O is not a bad team in fact they’ve been beating us like we were children for the past few years and we have had nothing to say until now. Parc-O, we all grown up.
It has been said that ‘Forwards win games and backs win championships’ and I guess we proved that this Saturday. I am of course just kidding. BRFC played well as a whole and that is why we won the Cup this Saturday. We put in so much work to get there, so many stairs, so many bridges, so many laps, so much standing at center field waiting for our team, so much cutting off our cojones to spite our wives.
I feel like I should have done this write-up half drunk on Saturday, when the feeling was fresh and emotion was running high, and I keep thinking of Chris “Hard Man” McCunn saying that there was something a little anti-climatic about the win on Saturday. I think I just figured out what it was and why we had to take a walk at midnight to where we did our work this year and put up with full frontal nudity from he who will be known as “Jim Twinn” because he begged me not to write his name but feel free to e mail me at ovett underscore Edwards at yahoo dot com for details. I think the reason is because we did the hard work this year. We ran our butts off at practice we even began to get quieter during practice. I think the championship is great and I’ve been smiling to myself for days now but overwhelmingly my thoughts are on the fact that we worked so hard this season not on the fact that we won on Saturday. I think I get it when our coach tell us that we only have to go out there and do the work and the score is just a consequence and I think I get it now when he is infuriated that we don’t treat practice like it’s a game. And I think I get it now when guys say leave it on the field but I’m sure that is only possible when you give a 110% and you do it because it is the right thing to do, not because it’s a big game or a championship game or your last game.
We win.
This is the poem that plays in my head when I’m not thinking about how to disobey my coach and my captain.
It is by Claude McKay and he is Black, there are no Black people in Argentina but you can’t tell.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
This is a poem that helps me get through the hard times when, disobeying my coach and captain bring me no joy and when resigning myself to go down with a fight does not comfort me. I dedicate it to Parc-O, who were, and are, as good a team as any that was on the field that fateful day in October. It is by John Donne and he is White, there are White people in Argentina but they are only White until they get here.
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Parc-O is not a bad team in fact they’ve been beating us like we were children for the past few years and we have had nothing to say until now. Parc-O, we all grown up.
It has been said that ‘Forwards win games and backs win championships’ and I guess we proved that this Saturday. I am of course just kidding. BRFC played well as a whole and that is why we won the Cup this Saturday. We put in so much work to get there, so many stairs, so many bridges, so many laps, so much standing at center field waiting for our team, so much cutting off our cojones to spite our wives.
I feel like I should have done this write-up half drunk on Saturday, when the feeling was fresh and emotion was running high, and I keep thinking of Chris “Hard Man” McCunn saying that there was something a little anti-climatic about the win on Saturday. I think I just figured out what it was and why we had to take a walk at midnight to where we did our work this year and put up with full frontal nudity from he who will be known as “Jim Twinn” because he begged me not to write his name but feel free to e mail me at ovett underscore Edwards at yahoo dot com for details. I think the reason is because we did the hard work this year. We ran our butts off at practice we even began to get quieter during practice. I think the championship is great and I’ve been smiling to myself for days now but overwhelmingly my thoughts are on the fact that we worked so hard this season not on the fact that we won on Saturday. I think I get it when our coach tell us that we only have to go out there and do the work and the score is just a consequence and I think I get it now when he is infuriated that we don’t treat practice like it’s a game. And I think I get it now when guys say leave it on the field but I’m sure that is only possible when you give a 110% and you do it because it is the right thing to do, not because it’s a big game or a championship game or your last game.
We win.
This is the poem that plays in my head when I’m not thinking about how to disobey my coach and my captain.
It is by Claude McKay and he is Black, there are no Black people in Argentina but you can’t tell.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
This is a poem that helps me get through the hard times when, disobeying my coach and captain bring me no joy and when resigning myself to go down with a fight does not comfort me. I dedicate it to Parc-O, who were, and are, as good a team as any that was on the field that fateful day in October. It is by John Donne and he is White, there are White people in Argentina but they are only White until they get here.
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
posted by Ovett at 2:18 PM
1 Comments:
i guess what i mean is that they lost to us but their loss is nothing because they are above losing just like the speaker in he poem is above death. and in the first poem i realize that we are the ones that are constrained to honour Parc-O, although the poem also exemplifies our mentality in going into our last two games
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