Hey I got bored, so I’m writing about the boys hockey team like they’re Viking warriors. In the middle of another strong season with a record of 8-3-2, the team has earned a spot in the postseason tournament and has its eye on a return to the state championship. I figured they deserved an epic ballad to recount their saga and urge them on.
They ride, they ride on a chariot of gold and black,
Chewing and gnashing on their sticks in pent-up fury, ready to attack.
Their equipment soaked with the fear of those who cross their path,
They were forgotten, for their very names became the past.
Blades sharpened on a skull shattered in two,
Their enemies’ fear is palpable, and that will be cut too.
Hope is all the enemy can wish for
Yet they still believe that their feeble troop will score.
Ha! I laugh at the arrogance of these over-confident fools,
For have they not heard of the Hanover team that rules?
Have they not heard of the 25 men,
Bound together, win by win?
These crown-less kings of the frozen domain
Leave their mark through terror and pain.
A pain well-known, and certainly remembered
It scars the DNA and burns like a hot ember.
Their well-sharpened blades flay the ice they charge through
Sticks crash and break spirits, and panes of glass too.
The blood-thirsty crowd will laugh all the day
Sneering at those bold enough to block their way.
Mocking those who lay defeated on the winter curtain,
When facing this blitzkrieg of flesh, nothing is certain.
But for teams that face HHS, one thing is true,
Hell has stepped on the rink, and there is no hope for you.
Photo Courtesy of the Friends of Hanover Hockey website