Tucker And The PAT

Here's a bit of silliness to lighten up your day.

For those of y'all who don't know, Baltimore Ravens kicker Justin Tucker is the most accurate kicker in NFL history. In fact, up until last Sunday, he had never missed an extra point try, going back 222 NFL attempts (346 if you count his college and high school days). That's why it was national news when he missed the extra point that would have sent the game to overtime. Tucker himself seemed amazed:

And so, apparently suffering from an excess of free time and with profound apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer, I proudly give you Tucker And The PAT

Things were looking gloomy all across the harbor town,
The flock was down by 4 and the clock was winding down.
And when Brees drove down the field, and Lutz' kick was true,
The loyal fans of Baltimore were feeling rather blue.

A straggling few got up and headed for the lots. The rest
Were grimly silent in the chilly Autumn air;
They thought, “A touchdown now, we've been here before,
If only it was 3 pts, Justin Tucker always scores.”

But first we need a runback, then to go 80 yards,
Flacco's playing better, but that isn't in the cards.
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy hung,
For there seemed but little chance that the ballgame could be won.

But Flacco wasn't blinking, his passing arm was true,
And Brown ran like a scalded cat, to the goal line-over too!
And when the play was finished, the score went on the board,
The birds lacked but a single point, twenty three to twenty four.

And from the faithful's mouths, there came a mighty roar;
It echoed 'cross the harbor, and all 'round Baltimore.
If the dead were to awaken, that sound would do the trick,
As Tucker, Justin Tucker, came on to make the kick.

There was ease in Tucker's manner as he strode into his place.
There was grace in Tuckers bearing and his grin was locked in place.
And when in preparation, his toe dug in the dirt,
Every Saints fan in the building knew he was there to bring the hurt.

Countless eyes were on him, as he went into his stance.
He's Mr. Automatic, so there was nothing left to chance.
Into the holder's waiting hands the oval spheroid glides,
And Tucker, grimly serious, breaks into his graceful stride.

The ball is gone from Koch's hands, it's heading for the goal.
The multitude is breathless as the kick hangs in their soul.
And now the crowd is silent as they will it to go in,
And now the air is shattered by a sudden gust of wind.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the people's hearts are gay,
The beer is ice cold somewhere, and the barn is filled with hay,
And somewhere men are laughing, and perhaps the sky is bright,
But there is no joy in Baltimore - Justin Tucker has missed right.

Open Thread

posted by WeirdDave at 09:12 PM

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