Your days of stalking prey are over.In case you did not hear, the last wild wolverine in the state of Michigan died last month. Apparently, the rodent died of natural causes, the victim of heart degeneration and liver congestion (insert your own joke here). Now I know that all of us are broken up with grief and sorrow over this event, but at the same time it strikes this writer as symbolically appropriate. Does it not seem to parallel the state of their football program?
The once proud program has been reduced to defending itself against NCAA probes and is the constant object of sarcastic ridicule (see below). With that in mind (and with apologies to Walt Whitman), I offer you this lament. Since our readers are a well-educated and cultured group, I'm certain they will be inspired to write their own verses to honor our fallen foe. (While reading, picture your average Michigan fan, perhaps with long hair, writing this as he pines away over a glass of PBR Tripel Karmeliet)
O WOLVERINE! my Wolverine! our rivals they have won;
The team has blunder’d every chance, the glory we had is done;
The end is near, the clock I hear, the fans all vomiting,
While follow eyes the shaky coach, the vessel grim and leaking:
But O loss! loss! loss!
O the fighting Bucks of red,
Where on the deck my Wolverine lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
My Mascot does not answer, his limbs are pale and still;
My Wolverine does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The team has flounder’d near and far, its season closed and done;
From Rose Bowl trip, the Buckeye ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the snow my Wolverine lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
