an inspirational story for the team

norse legend

a dead man. another dead man, with no throat. A dead man without a stomach. over there, a dead man with no head. i assume that is a man. a dead man. a man who will die. a fire. a pool of blood, and another dead man. a dead man without an arm next to a dead man without two arms. two dead men minus three arms. a fire. a dead man with no legs. a dead man on fire. a dead man with an ax in a fire, next to a dead man with no head in a fire. a fire. a dead man. a fire. a dead man and another dead man. a dead man on top of a dead man, both with swords in their chests. a fire. a dead man. a fire. a pool of blood. a dead man's body with no arms or legs. a dead man that is covered with parts of other dead men. a dead man with a helmet on. a pool of blood. a dead man. a dead man. a dead man. a fire. a dead man with no eyes. another dead man. a fire. a pool of blood. a dead man in a fire. a fire. a man with no body. a fire. a dead man underneath eight other dead men in a dead man pool of dead blood. a dead man fire. a fire. a dead man.

rain

if, at first, there is lightning, then, if we stab people with lightning rods, we can channel lightning into their bodies, and eliminate them from sporting competition.

today you will see a cheetah, and if you rip-out its still-beating heart, you will have better luck at powerball than most.

protein loading

our team eating meat. over the course of training, our team eating enough meat to spill out of our stomaches through our skin and muscle and through our spine in the back, out over our asses.

over the course of training, our team growing enough muscle from ingesting the muscle of animals, that other teams barely have enough room to stand on the soccer field. our team crushing the light out of the sun. our team winning the championship game by at least eighty goals.

over the course of two or three years, our team changing the temperature on the entire planet earth. our team building muscle by ingesting islands and oceans. our team being bashed by al gore. our team being denied by several prominent scientists. many years later, our team killing those scientists.

today is a day for meeting new people and respecting old friends

in kicking drills today, there will be a large and fat man eating a steak in the corner of the field. be afraid of this fat man. in the grease-stained recesses of your bowels, you will tremble with methane. you will feel his steak shiv dig into your anus and into your intestines and, eventually, pull its slag through your mouth and out onto a wet spot of grass near your gym bag.

today is a good day to show respect for animals you have slaughtered in the name of victory. consider slaughtering an extra pig or lamb, and showering your children in its blood.

benito's mud mask

instead of allowing our players to squelch the ass of relief in a nearby hutch of sport-bowels, we should instead consider their pungent victory-loaf like a gut-stained ice viking on all fours considers warmth.

a simple covering of one's body in rear composite will not only create a panic in the jowls of our enemy, but will assist our greater goal of box penetration and solid scoring attempts. like il duce covering himself in the virgin blood of fascism and hitler, it is an allegiance to shit that pays with the freshest grapes.

your lucky numbers today are 29, 56, and 78,000.

spears for victory

our game plan must be in favor of spears. if, collectively, we have spears on the field, and lots of spears, we can draw the life-flavor out of our enemies' asses and groins with a heartless ass-groin stabbing power that not only makes sense, but is affordable. these spears could easily be formed in our own homes using cut pvc pipe or bamboo, and one spear could economically shed the ass/groin blood of multiple teams on multiple fields.

red blood in the womb of our enemy

my genitals say that because we are a team made out of hard stalin-like steel, like the black market nuclear weapons trade post-cold war or rape pregnancy, there is a unknown bastard exploding in the belly of the soccer club 'growling trout'. i predict ass-blood spilling from millions in the silent wake of this win-defeat.

bay of pigs and sputnik, comrades. victory. gorbachev. china.