When the dust settled on the MAC Championship game RAWRCATZ nation wept. We wept not for ourselves, because we are not the team. Let us make an important statement: This blog will never include itself in the matters of the team. We are lucky enough to be fans of a Frank Solich lead football juggernaut. That is all we ask, the ability to watch and cheer.
No, our tears were for these young men who have battled so valiantly in front of our eyes all season. They were for Boo Jackson and all the others who have been wounded along the way. They were for Theo Scott who stands in the fire better than most.
They were not for King Solich, if he knew we were crying we'd all be dead.
For a day we wept. We dried our tears on our sleeves and looked depressingly at our MAC East championship shirts. And then we recovered. In this season of thanks and counted blessings we counted high. We have Frank Solich. We have LaVon Brazill. We have the Marching 110. We have Rufus and Peden Stadium and the greatest jerseys in college football.
So now as the holiday quickly approaches we stand with vertebrae of steel and fistfuls of vigor. For on Saturday we breathe fire once more.
Marshall. Who is Marshall anyways? The Thundering Herd? As laughable a mascot as we here at RAWRCATZRAWR! have ever seen. The mascot of a should be extinct beast.
"We Are Marshall!" should be, "We Are About To Be Destroyed By RAWRCATZ!"
Not even Matthew McConaughey can save you.
This Saturday the Motor City welcomes us back once more, this time with open arms. The RAWRCATZ! juggernaut will not be satiated with tours of Greektown and the MGM Casino. These will not even peek our interest. While Marshall tours The Henry Ford Museum we will be hunting. Lurking in the shadows and stalking with a snarl and a sinister look that scares children and makes nuns poop their pants. This time we leave Motown with the head of the herd in our hands, and the first bowl victory in the school's history.
This time, we come for blood.