By Raw Crawford:
By request I shall endeavor not to use “BIG WORDS” when a singularly unloquacious and diminutive linguistic expression will satisfactorily accomplish the contemporary necessity.
Over the years our memory does strange things but I still want to embrace the mystical quality of this story as a Launchpad for the tale I shall now unveil.
Strange memories seem like a lifetime ago, when we were the Main Era, the kind of peak that never comes again. On the gridiron it was a very special time and place for us to be a part of. It meant something to all of us but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that we were there and alive in that spec of time and in that corner of the world.
Our football history is not as hard to know as it is to explain. Because to us it seemed entirely reasonable to think that every now and then our energy came to a head, for reasons that nobody really understood at the time and to which we can never explain, in retrospect, as to what actually happened.
We had a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, because we were winning. On the gridiron there was madness in any direction, on any play we would strike sparks everywhere. That was the sense of inevitable victory over the forces of our old and evil opponents. Our energy would simply prevail because we had all the momentum; we rode the crest of a high and beautiful wave.
So now, all these years later, we meet once a year and with aching bodies, fading eyes and deafening ears we smile at the sight of a friend, and in our trademark way weshake hands and as long lost brothers we graciously come together.
So in conclusion and in summary and summation and to wrap things up in a way that will bring things to a close before we say good-bye in a conclusionary fashion, let me leave you with these parting words. This piece of doggerel is simple and catchy, but it unpacks into a resonant, meaningful philosophy that reads as sympathetic to humanity, albeit from a removed, humoring, alien viewpoint.
We ain't as good as we once were but we are as good once as we ever were, be at the clubhouse on June 24, 2017 and you’ll have a good time on this I can assure.