They be Drivin against the Mighty Toledo

Yes haunted watches, engrossed..five minutes to play and the boys of yellow are behind...13-10 Toledo. Even a come back will mean little...but it will be a win. The Scourge is troubled, his head set askew, his split offense sputtered, his image tumbling, his feet blistered and belly bulging.. a wreck.

And there it is the throw..and.. and ...and...F**K and Yikes and intercepted by Toledo with 3:44 to go. What ho What hey they'll be drinking like fish in Mudville today... Hemlock that is.

But Wait the crowd begins to chant...Roxbury, Roxbury, Roxbury..Fleet, and through the stadium a roar arises, a shout of One Hundred Thousand little men... And all eyes look... Roxbury...Roxbury...Can it be, will it happen, victory snatched from defeat... Roxbury, Roxbury...but wait, it is only the WIND and a bit of tattered blue bunting rising, then drifting, trying to soar then falling with one last flutter...trampled to the turf.

Such are the dreams of Michigan fans everywhere...there will be no final field goal... there will be no victory. There will be no... Can you believe it?
Now it's overtime? But no.. THE KICK IS NO GOOD