An ode to the champions.

I would like to reveal my deepest feelings for our beloved super strikers that contiued their path to greatness in the form of a lancer. These feelings are feelings that I have had ever since the first game as a striker. This feeling is something I find difficult to describe with only words, and I stand in for my fellow strikers when I say, the feeling we feel, is a feeling that we can only feel, when we get stuck, the fuck, in. It's a mutal feeling that has the ablity to bring out the animal in a man.

With this being said, I took it uopn myself to write a haiku dedicated to the victors of Western Mass.

Can a man be great?

when does his excellence cease?

His heart cannot stop.

Good work boys.

Fuck.

Shout out to Maurer for doing good finally.

Shout out to Cove for netting a game winner fatter than Santa Claus.

Shoutout to Zach for getting his chain yanked by the refs, you scored, bruh.

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