Anonymous Cowherd
04-26-2011, 01:44 PM
IN THE END, IT’S THE HOPE...
Each time they play we like to think
"We could get it done in 6!"
And it might be the crowd and it might be the drink
As the voices raise and the pitchers clink
And the tactics fail and the passing stinks
But each time they play we always think
We'll be able to get it done in 6.
But the game is a mess and nobody clicks
And nothing connects and the flaws won't fix
And you feel slightly cheated and a little bit sick
That it’s nothing like a series win in 6
'Cos in the end, it’s the hope that defeats you;
In the end, it’s the hope that deflates
In the end the expectation’s more than you can bear
As you watch the match from behind your chair
With your dad and six of your weeping mates
And you punch the wall and you tear your hair
Because the hope is more than you can bear
And we're not going to get it done in 6
When they’re running like chickens and tossing up bricks
So here’s my advice: assume they’ll lose
Once you’ve sung the Anthem, sing the blues
Pretend you’re watching the Rockets, Jazz
Warriors, Clippers, Wolves or Cavs;
'Cos b-ball’s up and down like a Mississippi ferry
And you’re sometimes miserable and sometimes merry
If you don’t build ‘em up you can’t knock ‘em down
And if your small forward's a fool and your stretch 4's a clown
And your bench is toiling and your coach seems thick
And it’s past the point of getting it done in 66...
Expect nothing. Expect nothing. That’s Cowherd’s Law
Then you’ll be really happy, that it's gone past 4...
(Adapted by me from a poem about the England football team)
Each time they play we like to think
"We could get it done in 6!"
And it might be the crowd and it might be the drink
As the voices raise and the pitchers clink
And the tactics fail and the passing stinks
But each time they play we always think
We'll be able to get it done in 6.
But the game is a mess and nobody clicks
And nothing connects and the flaws won't fix
And you feel slightly cheated and a little bit sick
That it’s nothing like a series win in 6
'Cos in the end, it’s the hope that defeats you;
In the end, it’s the hope that deflates
In the end the expectation’s more than you can bear
As you watch the match from behind your chair
With your dad and six of your weeping mates
And you punch the wall and you tear your hair
Because the hope is more than you can bear
And we're not going to get it done in 6
When they’re running like chickens and tossing up bricks
So here’s my advice: assume they’ll lose
Once you’ve sung the Anthem, sing the blues
Pretend you’re watching the Rockets, Jazz
Warriors, Clippers, Wolves or Cavs;
'Cos b-ball’s up and down like a Mississippi ferry
And you’re sometimes miserable and sometimes merry
If you don’t build ‘em up you can’t knock ‘em down
And if your small forward's a fool and your stretch 4's a clown
And your bench is toiling and your coach seems thick
And it’s past the point of getting it done in 66...
Expect nothing. Expect nothing. That’s Cowherd’s Law
Then you’ll be really happy, that it's gone past 4...
(Adapted by me from a poem about the England football team)