I have wanted to do Walt Whitman's "Oh Captain! My Captain!" for a long time, but the timing was never quite right. Given the thermonuclear nature of Coach Chizik's seat on the Plains, I decided that now was the perfect time to write this piece. I originally just put an asterisk after the first "3" to indicate that I was going to make note of my act of charity in assuming that they would beat their last patsy, but then I decided to add more asterisks because if there's one thing Auburn people should understand, it's asterisks. I have no idea what I'll do for tomorrow and Friday; I guess that will have to a surprise for all of us. With apologies to Walt Whitman:
Oh, Chizik! My Chizik! Our fearful year is done.
The team has weathered every loss; three* patsy games were won.
Your end is nigh, the ire is high, the Barner fans are balking.
Such a year has opened eyes and gotten boosters talking.
But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O, this aching heart of mine
wonders how we fell so fast to
tally 3* and 9.
O Chizik! My Chizik! Man up and face the facts.
Man up-for you, the whistle's blown-for you, the boosters' pacts
no more shall keep you safe and sound-for you have lost your backing.
For blood they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.
Here, Chizik! Dear head coach!
For Cam and Nick we pine
and wonder at the truth of a
record of 3* and 9.
My Chizik cannot answer; his lips are grim and still;
My head coach knows his time is done; he has no force of will.
The field is shutter'd safe and sound, its season closed and done;
from fearful year they backwards rear at only 3 games won.
Exult, o fans, and gloat, o foes!
But I will not be fine
as I contemplate the feel of
numbers 3* and 9.