But behold, an ill wind befalleth the People of the Gator, and many things stinketh: the defense of the Gator People reeketh; then the quarterbacks of the Gator People reeketh with great stench; then the coaching of the Spurious One himself reeketh with the most stupendous stink of all; and the Spurious One yanketh off his Victory Visor, and hurleth it at the dirt, and messeth up his hair. And lo, even as the hair of the Spurious One falleth into chaos, the evil spell weareth off and nevermore has there been a Championship for the People of the Gators.

And many there were to arise and seek forth to be the new Man with the Mane; but many there were with the Dandruff of Desolation, and the Uncomely Comb-Over, and many who consorteth with the Bumbling Barbers of Barbarism who layeth a coach's head to ruin.

But one there was who emerged with the magnificent Big Hair to silence the reeking hordes of the SEC. And lo, he was the Mummefied Mumbler, he who leadeth the Warriors of the Wildcat Wastelands. For his hair soareth to heights never attained by the Wildcat warriors themselves, and he wrappeth a sweater around his neck for he thinketh it maketh him look like Batman. And lo, while the proud and manly warriors of the opposition laugheth at his weak and girlish demeanor, his team throweth a multitude of girly-passes and maketh first downs. And many there are who say, "Behold, the Mummefied One, is he not a wise and crafty chieftain?" And they sayeth this for about three minutes. For then, the proud and manly warriors of the opposition stoppeth laughing and begin their savage and merciless conquest of the feeble Wildcat warriors. And lo, the Mummefied One calleth the fake punt, and his opponent chuckleth heartily and beateth upon him; and the Mummefied One tryeth a gimmick play, and his opponent chuckleth some more and beateth upon him; and the Mummefied One throweth another girly-pass, and his opponent haveth a good hee haw, scoopeth the hallowed hogskin out of the air, scoreth, and beateth upon him yet some more.

And the Mummefied One hurleth words unfit for wenches and young warriors, and raketh his Big Hair with his fingers, and throweth off his cape, and stompeth his little feet.

And to the South, where the People of the Dawg are soon to invade, the Spurious one sayeth, "Hmmm. A cape. I never thought of that."