The Chosen One from the tourney’s gone,
With his wild throws wound up behind him.
His throwing form he must work upon;
A decent trainer they must find him.
“Son of Swamp” said the media throng,
“Since all the World exalts thee,
Your team was felled by a Branch so long,
No one among us faults thee.”
The Great One fell! And the Hooded One
Could not keep his dark side under.
He still had some bizarre plays to run,
For to make his opponents wonder.
And said “No luck today for ye
Who win with tricks and gimmickry!
Your plays work when the safety’s free;
They shall never work on our DB!”