Great job, hip-hop. You soccer'd up Tony Mitchell and ruined everything. Not even Karen Aston could save Tony Mitchell Day now.
Twas the night we’d been waiting for all across Mean Green land.
Not a dissension was stirring; the flames of hope had been fanned.
His finals all taken, he’d received the appropriate score.
It was time for Tony Mitchell to hit the hardwood floor.
The Pit Crew was standing; the Alums took a seat,
it was time to see if the Mean Green would truly compete
With Villarreal in his sport coat and Dr. Rawlins across the court,
the crowd was there to see if he was as good as the report
When out from the tunnel came two cheerleaders with banners.
The crowd noise was excessive, like kids with no manners.
The team followed closely with a certain new poise.
The fans were predicting some tournament noise.
Sitting at court side, glare hardened like stones
and dressed in his finest was coach Johnny Jones.
More rapid than eagles his players they came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name?
There was Jones and Williams and Franklin and Hall,
Hogans and Edwards but that wasn’t all.
The team was well rounded and if Mitchell did fit,
he hoped that this year would finally be it.
The crowd was a twitter with anticipatory glee,
they had come to see the Mean Green, including Tony.
For the end of the story and to come and take stock,
December 18th at the Super Pit, tip off - seven o’clock.
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