If William Shakespeare covered college football—and perhaps confused Brock Osweiler with King Henry V—it may go a little something like this...
Once more unto the breach, dear Sun Devils, once more;
Or close the line up with our tackled tailbacks.
In the offseason there's nothing so becomes a player
As intense lifting and conditioning:
But when the blast of the season blows in our helmets,
Then imitate the action of the Sun Devil!
Buckle the chinstrap, summon up the game plan,
Disguise fair nature with Vontaze’d rage;
Then lend the eye a maroon and golden aspect;
Let fly skyward the symbol of the pitchfork
Like the post pattern to Gerrell; let the offense o'erwhelm them
As powerfully as doth a Gerhart block
O'erload and bull rush their confounded offensive line,
Blitz'd with the wild and furious Onyeali.
Now set the play and stretch Mike Willie out wide,
Hold hard the snap count and call out every audible
To Brock's full height. On, on, you noblest Devils.
Whose legacy is fet from legends of Rose Bowls past!
Legends that, like so many Danny Whites,
Have on this field from morn till night hath fought
And ceased their attack only for referee's whistle:
Dishonour not your teammates; now attest
That those whom you call'd coaches did recruit you.
Be copy now to men of redshirting blood,
And teach them how to play. And you, good Devil,
Whose future was made in Tempe, show us here
The mettle of your play-making; let us prove
That you are worth your jersey; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so talented and true,
That hath not the victorious luster in your eyes.
I see you standing in Tillman Tunnel,
Straining upon the kickoff. The game's afoot!
Follow your school spirit, and upon this season’s charge
Cry ‘Victory for Tempe, Arizona State and Saint Sparky!'
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