sliverslinger
New member
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2013
- Messages
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Disclaimer - this is not my own writing, a friend of a friend on FB wrote it I believe:
Twas right before game time, all packed in the Clink,
like many a Hawk fan, I slept not a wink.
The banners are hung from the rafters with care,
with hopes that ultimate will soon hang there.
The Niners are longing to be in their beds,
the roar of the 12th man is pounding their heads.
Jim with his khakis, sharpie, and cap,
hoping his quarterback won't play like crap.
The Niners run out to a chorus of boos,
poor Aldon's so drunk he just puked on his shoes.
Jim's mad his wife bought him pants without pleats,
and Kaepernick's scared cuz he can't wear his Beats.
Then in the Hawks' tunnel, there arose such a clatter,
12s sprang from their seats to see what was the matter.
They looked to the tunnel, and what did it yield?
An actual hawk flying over the field.
The Niners' hearts sank when they saw the smoke plume,
they knew what would follow: The Legion of Boom.
Their coach chewing gum like a dog that is feral,
I knew right away that it must be Pete Carroll.
To the fireworks' boom and crowd's cheers they came,
Pete grinned and he hollered and called them by name:
Now Beast Mode! Now Bam Bam! Now Sherman and Wilson!
On Thomas! On Wagner! On Clemons and Irvin!
From the very first whistle they gave it their all,
they ran and they tackled and picked off that ball.
The Hawks passed and they blocked with the greatest of hustle,
twas clear to San Fran they were lacking in muscle.
Wilson blocked out the doubt that was in the sports pages,
and went out and played a game for the ages.
A brilliant performance, 4 touchdowns he threw,
to Baldwin, and Kearse, and Golden caught two.
Lynch set out to punish and dish out great pain,
he truck-sticked Pat Willis like a runaway train.
A Beast of this magnitude cannot be shackled,
and the Niners D proved that 'Shawn cannot be tackled.
Gore ran left and right, finding no way,
a big hit from Chancellor ended his day.
He saw 31, then a big flash of light,
and after that only the darkness of night.
Kaep threw Earl a pick six served up on a plate,
and longed for his headphones to block out the hate.
He talked a big game, but lost his composure,
and found himself praying the game would be over.
The Niners complained the Hawks' DBs were holdin',
Sherman yelled back "Run better routes, Boldin!".
Jim ran on the field when he shouldn't be on it,
and lost 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct.
The last seconds ticked off to thunderous cheers,
12s high-fived and chest-bumped and pounded their beers.
As the Hawks were presented the trophy of Halas,
the Niners felt like they got kicked in the phallus.
Over the course of the game, San Fran's will was broken,
the pundits who picked them, on their words now chokin'.
I heard Raible exclaim as he closed out the night,
Hawks to New York, to the Niners: "Safe flight."
GO HAWKS!
Twas right before game time, all packed in the Clink,
like many a Hawk fan, I slept not a wink.
The banners are hung from the rafters with care,
with hopes that ultimate will soon hang there.
The Niners are longing to be in their beds,
the roar of the 12th man is pounding their heads.
Jim with his khakis, sharpie, and cap,
hoping his quarterback won't play like crap.
The Niners run out to a chorus of boos,
poor Aldon's so drunk he just puked on his shoes.
Jim's mad his wife bought him pants without pleats,
and Kaepernick's scared cuz he can't wear his Beats.
Then in the Hawks' tunnel, there arose such a clatter,
12s sprang from their seats to see what was the matter.
They looked to the tunnel, and what did it yield?
An actual hawk flying over the field.
The Niners' hearts sank when they saw the smoke plume,
they knew what would follow: The Legion of Boom.
Their coach chewing gum like a dog that is feral,
I knew right away that it must be Pete Carroll.
To the fireworks' boom and crowd's cheers they came,
Pete grinned and he hollered and called them by name:
Now Beast Mode! Now Bam Bam! Now Sherman and Wilson!
On Thomas! On Wagner! On Clemons and Irvin!
From the very first whistle they gave it their all,
they ran and they tackled and picked off that ball.
The Hawks passed and they blocked with the greatest of hustle,
twas clear to San Fran they were lacking in muscle.
Wilson blocked out the doubt that was in the sports pages,
and went out and played a game for the ages.
A brilliant performance, 4 touchdowns he threw,
to Baldwin, and Kearse, and Golden caught two.
Lynch set out to punish and dish out great pain,
he truck-sticked Pat Willis like a runaway train.
A Beast of this magnitude cannot be shackled,
and the Niners D proved that 'Shawn cannot be tackled.
Gore ran left and right, finding no way,
a big hit from Chancellor ended his day.
He saw 31, then a big flash of light,
and after that only the darkness of night.
Kaep threw Earl a pick six served up on a plate,
and longed for his headphones to block out the hate.
He talked a big game, but lost his composure,
and found himself praying the game would be over.
The Niners complained the Hawks' DBs were holdin',
Sherman yelled back "Run better routes, Boldin!".
Jim ran on the field when he shouldn't be on it,
and lost 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct.
The last seconds ticked off to thunderous cheers,
12s high-fived and chest-bumped and pounded their beers.
As the Hawks were presented the trophy of Halas,
the Niners felt like they got kicked in the phallus.
Over the course of the game, San Fran's will was broken,
the pundits who picked them, on their words now chokin'.
I heard Raible exclaim as he closed out the night,
Hawks to New York, to the Niners: "Safe flight."
GO HAWKS!
