Long ago, before the Earth cooled and dinosaurs roamed the planet, I had a friend. He was a better athlete than I was, and probably still is (damning with faint praise I know!)
Anyway, many afternoons we'd play H-O-R-S-E. Usually he'd win, but I'd pull out a win at times, enough to give me hope. One afternoon, one magical afternoon, though, things were different.
For that one afternoon, I was the king of the court. I couldn't miss, and he couldn't hit. Two, three, four games in a row. It was magic. He was getting pi$$ed, and I was getting full of myself. Things were different. He wasn't going to dominate on the court any more.
The next weekend, he mauled me ... and I never was able to match that streak again. But for years, I held on to that magical afternoon, when I owned the guy that owned me.
I think y'all can see the parallel. The Capons are having their magical afternoon, when they own the owner. It stinks, but just remember ... years from now, this magical afternoon is all they will have to keep them warm after future winters of butt cutting.
They will NEVER be a BCS winner. They will NEVER own this rivalry. They will NEVER be Clemson.
But they have this magical afternoon ... like I have it over my friend.
And only those with these magical afternoons know how much it means to us, and how little it means to everyone else.
It's time to stop letting a gaggle of clucking Capons blur your vision. We are Clemson, and we will forever be Clemson. One magical afternoon for an opponent forever doomed to be less in the eyes of the world will not change that.
Know this. Savor this. You are blessed beyond belief to be Sons of Clemson. Mornings like this make it abundantly clear.
Rejoice in who we are ... and who we will always be.