As most of you know, Maya Angelou and I tend run in the same circles. We are both North Carolina poets and wordsmiths. We are both held in the highest regards by other esteemed writers and laureates from throughout this great country. From the President of the United States all the way down to the drunken hobos that live behind the Sunoco down the street from my house.
In order to fully prepare for the upcoming NFL season, I asked her to write a few words about the fate of a few of the teams. And here, you lucky Lampoon readers, are her predictions for the 2009-10 NFL Season,
The Cowboys
Romo-thou art not a homo
Fumbulicious, maybe still
Play-offs still haunt your dreams
No longer necessary on special teams
But a man in shining blue stars
Who holds all the cards
Of fortune,
is surely sheriff
A billion green faces have lain
Before you an exquisite new home
Where Buffalo need not roam
As long as T.O. catches in their town
The Jones of Jerry; Master of Cowboys
Has built a cathedral of success
For America’s team
The American Dream
Like blondes with high beams
A subject you know something about
Wrangle up some wins Tony R.
In the play-offs, you must ride far
Or next year at this time
You will be washing my car
The Jets
Jets, the Jets; soaring through the clouds
Hopes and dreams on the wings of Favre
Have come careening to the ground
Alas, a new pilot this season will fly
Ready to pull back the throttle
And rise higher and higher into the sky
Fans line-up to for the chance to see
On the runway, as the green Jets taxi
The people rise, rise and crowd the airport gate
Sadly, they will still finish worse than 8 and 8.
The Bears
Chicago cold and windy
The lake stares briskly at you
Orton traveled to Denver
And so, the offense is born anew
The defense is like poetry
At the helm a man, Urlacher
As blanketing as a new fallen snow
The qb he will surely sack her
Traps for Bears don’t often succeed
But they often catch the Cubbies
So Chicago puts it hopes and dreams
On the shoulders of a man named Lovie
The Vikings
Brett Favre, Brett Favre
The people of Minnesota
Are starved, for a ring
Put on your majestic purple Four
And helmet—which proudly adorns
Those alabaster and unbreakable horns
And lead your men to battle
Greeen Bay shakes its death rattle
As new fans will help you mount the saddle
Because a championship ring is in their conception
The ball floats higher and higher and higher
Interception
The Panthers
Roaming in the fields of the Carolinas
Panthers, majestic, proud and black
Basking in a harvest of blue Peppers
Where Carolinians pick up there sacks
Alas, the Peppers have gone sour
And it ruins the farmer’s lunch
For he hath provided the defense
And Smith hath provided the punch
If Peppers does not return to Charlotte fields
Leaving all opponents--free to roam
Panthers of Carolina have dug their grave
Where mediocrity will call surely call Delhomme
The Bucs
Once, proud pirates on the seas of seven
Buccaneers be not proud, furthermore
Their ship had begun taking on water
Cadillac is on cinderblocks
in the front yard
Cannons lay silent
The boat is taking on water
This isn't even worth it
You suck.
The Patriots
Patriots, oh Patriots,
Where have thou gone?
Once a team of outrageous dexterity
Has put down their muskets of age
A man of steel has been laid to turf
His injured leg hath felt the dirt
And the steel of scalpel upon his knee
Had set his opponents,
Who had longed to be free
Freedom! They exclaimed
As the war carried on
Red, white and blue still fought at dawn
Patriots forever, no matter the case
As linebackers grew old
And victory,
They no longer could taste
But, out of a deep musty fog
your General has risen
So pick up your muskets
And release yourself from prison
He is the One to ease your worried pains
For he is the Man that moves your chains
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