Game Day: Kansas City, Missouri

Tigers vs. Oklahoma Sooners

December 6, 2008

Tiger AP ranking: 19th

(With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer.)

The signposts didn’t point toward a Missouri win that day:
The point spread stood at seventeen. On eBay tickets lay.
So when Corso and then Herbstreit took turns calling for a rout,
The Sooners drew the accolades. Missouri, counted out.

But still the Tiger buses they pulled into Arrowhead.
The players strolled serenely off, their eyes not tipping dread.
And tailgaters flew Tiger flags and ate with all their hearts;
And pierced the chilly evening air with Tiger beer-fueled farts.

Nearby, a long stretch Hummer, that of crimson and of cream,
Arrived, and toothless Sooner fans let out a whooping scream.
And then the 5-star athletes one-by-one did disembark.
To do what they do, game or not—spark mayhem in the dark.

And still the Tigers did not flinch. Their destiny awaited.
So through the tunnel they did speed to face a curse so hated.
They lost the coin toss at the start and kicked it high to Murray,
And Tigers fans there braced themselves against the Sooner fury.

The Tiger defense held, allowing just a three point score.
Then Sooner Schooner stalled just like a well-worn metaphor.
So when Maclin hauled a slant pass in and ran it home to sweet "ohs!"
The Tiger faithful came to life. Fiesta Bowl! (Tostidos)!

The Oklahoma head coach frowned, for this was not as planned.
His charges were the best that could be bought in all the land.
Stoops cursed and vowed that just as sure ’twas “Big Game Bob” his name,
He coached only in blowouts, and tonight would be the same.

It was in the second quarter with a field goal separating,
That Sooner QB “Heisman Sam” plum ended the debating.
Tucked snug behind offensive guards the size of missing links,
Sam sent his team to four straight scores and Tiger fans to drinks.

But the drinks were not forthcoming, for the beer taps all were dry.
So Tiger boosters warmed their toes and cursed the halftime sky.
And with the spread at 31 all hope turned to damnation,
’Cept that the Tigers’ pride might halt a rout by Sooner nation.

“Bwaa ha ha ha!” sneered Big Game Bob, “We’ve only just begun.”
He strutted ’round like Kim Jong Il, his game plan dialed to “stun.”
The Sooner throng they yelled for blood; their band played loud and strong,
As many struggled with the lyrics to their two-word song.

It wasn’t fair nor just that this Mizzou squad lose this way,
For weren’t they picked to win the league and play past New Years’ Day?
But fair is not what drives the fates nor fair the king anoints,
And fair was not on Sooners’ minds in racking up style points.

“Go Sixty! We want Sixty!” Sooner fans did warmly chant.
And Heisman Sam obliged them, dodging Tiger d-backs scant.
Yes, maybe with a big lead other teams’ first string would leave,
But Stoops does not coach other teams, and so, more down field heaves.

The final gun fired mercif’ly, no need for post-game wrap.
Still, Heisman Sam could not resist a verbal post-game slap.
Coach Pinkel and Coach Stoops met at midfield, their hands to shake,
With Pinkel showing great restraint to not a widow make.

But in Co Mo no one this sees, the channel long since flipped.
’Cause fans there know the drill when glory from their grasp is ripped.
To be a Tiger fan’s to know for whom the scoreboard tolls,
And when to hit the bars and toast those bids to minor bowls.