BYCTOM did not exist in the direct aftermath of the Michigan game, but if it did, it would have borne the following message:
LLOYD CARR. TOM BRADY. DESMOND HOWARD. JAKE LONG. ANTHONY THOMAS. BRAYLON EDWARDS. BRIAN GRIESE. DREW HENSON. CHARLES WOODSON. CHRIS WEBBER. GERALD FORD. CAN YOU HEAR ME? GERALD FORD, YOUR BOYS TOOK A HELL OF A BEATING.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sweet Sioux Swan Song
Northwestern defeated Illinois 27-10 last Saturday, but the story line that attracted national attention was the discontinuation of the Sweet Sioux Tomahawk trophy. On the one hand, I regret the ending of this tradition, and the 50% reduction in pre-modern hand-to-hand weaponry in Big Ten rivalry trophies. On the other hand, I support the NCAA's crusading effort to prevent Illinois from using any Native American imagery, only because they will eventually find the urge to put a hung-over frat boy in buckskin and have him flail away at some sort of 1950s version of Indian-themed calisthenics irresistable. Ending the Sweet Sioux tradition is a small sacrifice we all must make in order to avoid seeing this again:
With the Sweet Sioux retired, Illinois and Northwestern bigwigs will meet to determine the next trophy that will symbolize this heated, tradition-rich rivalry. No doubt they will not give the search for the trophy the seriousness and gravity it deserves.
I suggest that they replace the trophy with Dick Butkus. Dick Butkus can be transported by crate to the site of the game every year, before he is released to the winning team. He will then spend the year running a neighborhood bar and grill, like he did on "My Two Dads." In the event of Dick Butkus's death, he will be replaced by J Leman and Tim McGarigle, assuming that McGarigle is let off of traffic duty after telling the Commissioner where he can stuff his red tape and his due process.
Alternatively, the trophy could be named after the Tully Monster, Illinois's official State Fossil. The Tully Monster is, of course, a tiny worm-like creature, so I suggest that we take advantage of our crumbling school systems' promotion of scientific illiteracy and re-imagine the Tully Monster as a flying Tyrannosaurus that has an entire bleeding populace hanging from its jaws while its useless, vestigial forearms carry a crude bludgeoning instrument, which would look much more intimidating and symbolize the intensity of the rivalry between these two programs. If anyone asks how fierce the rivalry is, it can be described as a flying Tyrannosaurus with the ability to make crude tools and possibly shoot laserbeams from somwhere on its face, so yeah that's pretty goddamned fierce, I would say an order of magnitude more fierce than an old oaken bucket.
With the Sweet Sioux retired, Illinois and Northwestern bigwigs will meet to determine the next trophy that will symbolize this heated, tradition-rich rivalry. No doubt they will not give the search for the trophy the seriousness and gravity it deserves.
I suggest that they replace the trophy with Dick Butkus. Dick Butkus can be transported by crate to the site of the game every year, before he is released to the winning team. He will then spend the year running a neighborhood bar and grill, like he did on "My Two Dads." In the event of Dick Butkus's death, he will be replaced by J Leman and Tim McGarigle, assuming that McGarigle is let off of traffic duty after telling the Commissioner where he can stuff his red tape and his due process.
Alternatively, the trophy could be named after the Tully Monster, Illinois's official State Fossil. The Tully Monster is, of course, a tiny worm-like creature, so I suggest that we take advantage of our crumbling school systems' promotion of scientific illiteracy and re-imagine the Tully Monster as a flying Tyrannosaurus that has an entire bleeding populace hanging from its jaws while its useless, vestigial forearms carry a crude bludgeoning instrument, which would look much more intimidating and symbolize the intensity of the rivalry between these two programs. If anyone asks how fierce the rivalry is, it can be described as a flying Tyrannosaurus with the ability to make crude tools and possibly shoot laserbeams from somwhere on its face, so yeah that's pretty goddamned fierce, I would say an order of magnitude more fierce than an old oaken bucket.
Yow yow yow yow yow. YOW.
In 1926, a young songwriter penned "Wild Cats," a rousing melody written to inspire the fighting men to a victory over the Kaiser's invincible legions of mustachioed, pointy-helmeted fighting men. Realizing the war was over, and not particularly inspired by the Post-Locarno age of diplomacy, he turned his attention to the Northwestern Wildcat football team, and added these inspiring lyrics (cribbed from the good people over at Hail to Purple):
Wild Cats, They're Purple Wild Cats Yow-ow!
Wild Cats, They're winning Wild Cats Yow-ow!
Bring your Champions, they're our meat
U Northwestern won't be beat
Stratch 'em, bite 'em, claw 'em, fight 'em
Yow! Yow! Yow! Yow! Yow!
Yow! YOW!
"Wild Cats" has sadly not been heard at Ryan Field for some time, but its spirit of declaring your champions to be our meat lives on.
Damn you, Wilhelm, we will never forget your treachery
Damn you, Wilhelm, we will never forget your treachery
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