Tonight the RAWRCATZ! sleep the slumber of titans. In their dens and caves and dorm rooms they dream of things innocent and gallant. What do our humble yet stoic RAWRCATZ! dream about? What images do future MAC East champions conjure while situated within the arms of sleep? Let us postulate.
Theo Scott dreams of throwing touchdowns. And not just easy touchdowns. Big play, precision bombs like laser-guided missiles that put points on the board and weaken the resolve of a relatively stout Husky defense.
LaVon Brazill sleeps silently but in his head dance fascinations of glorious effort and many receptions. In his mind the ball floats effortlessly over the hands of outstretched defenders and he cradles it with his arms and his soul. He crosses the goal line with no one around and casually flips the ball to the referee before being danced about by the multitudes of beautiful lady RAWRCATZ!
Matt Weller doesn't dream, he doesn't have to. He is the dream.
Chris Garrett takes the hand off and breaks instantly into the open. He trucks a husky (the dog, not the player) that has wandered aimlessly onto the field. It is mortally wounded but Chris shows no remorse. That pup should have known to stumble into his path. He pounds his chest, the universal symbol of one who is victorious, and spits an epithet of annihilation into the sky.
Taylor Price wakes up in a cave. He reaches in the darkness for anything he can grasp, but there is nothing. In the distance is a light. He rises and steers himself in that direction. He is cautious, but unafraid. As he nears the light a deafening roar fills his ears and he runs towards it with great anticipation. The lights of Peden Stadium welcome him with their warmth and as he burst through the RAWRCATZ! head he knows that Saturday will be a day he shall remember. This wasn't a dream. It really happened.
Go forth RAWRCATZ! Go forth and make war.