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|12-25-2013, 12:50 AM||#1|
The Original Tater Hater
'Twas the night before Christmas...
...and all through the town, not a Tiger was stirring, not one could be found.
Christmas was coming, but no one could care, the stench of defeat still hung in the air.
Dabo Swinney was tossing, sleepless in bed, while visions of Gamecocks still danced in his head.
He was wearing a cap, which read, "Crimson Tide," trying to forget how his season had died.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, he sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
He stood at the window, his lower lip quivered, the lesson was hard the Ol' Ball Coach had delivered.
The moon on the breast of the Death Valley grass, gave him bad memories from the game that had passed.
When, what did he see while adjusting his hat, but a great Cock-A-Boose pulled by ragged, orange cats.
With a cool-handed driver, not a sweat did he draw, Dabo knew in a moment it must be St. Shaw.
The cats were so tired, they pulled with a strain, so Shaw beat them and shouted and called them by name:
"Now, Watkins! Now, Boyd! Now, Roderick and Kelly! On, Chandler! On, Bryant! On, Humphries and Beasley!
We'll ride through the Valley again 'fore I'm done, and rub that old rock one more time, just for fun."
As the footballs within the wild "Cock and Fire" fly, dumbfounding the DBs as they watch them go by.
Around and around, the poor Tigers flew, with a Cock-A-Boose full of Gamecocks, and Connor Shaw too!
The Gamecocks stood guard o'er the Tigers out back, as they painted Dabo's house garnet and black.
As Swinney drew in his hand and was turning around, the Ghost of Steve Spurrier was seen floating down.
He was dressed all in fur from his toes to his chin. He had made a new coat from some old Tiger skins.
Several more Tigers he had flung on his back, Stoudt, Brooks, and Howard, in fact.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His presence, how merry! He was thinking of the team his young Gamecocks had just buried.
Then suddenly above, the Great Spectre appeared. The names of all the coaches he had whipped through the years.
The victory torches still smoldered beneath, and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.
But Dabo stood blank-faced, His stomach still queasy. He knew that next year was not going to be easy.
He was sad and disgruntled, a mere shell of a man, and Steve laughed when he saw him, and thought of his fans.
They stood face to face, Dabo wanted to run. He could hear the theme song from "2001."
The Ghost spoke not a word, but went straight to his plan, leaving Taneyhill bobbleheads for all those at hand.
Raising his visor in salute, as if on cue, he said, "See ya next year!", and he faded from view.
Connor sprang to the Cock-A-Boose, to the cats said, "Let's go!", The Tigers all cried, saying, "No, Shaw, please no!"
And I heard him exclaim as he flew from the scene, "Merry Christmas to all, 31-17!"