Behold, subordinates: the greatest hockey team in the history of these greatest United States has risen above the rest to take the win against many a weakling eagle. Why? Because terriers are undeniably superior to eagles and should be treated with reverence in every waking and sleeping moment of your lives.
As founder of BU’s original Dog Pound, I know every inch of our hockey facilities like the back of my increasingly paw-like hand. I changed my name from Dan to Rhett several seasons ago to declare my allegiance, and I dance on the ice in a costume made of insufferable polyester and mesh simply to be the one human being permitted to be that close to the viking-like players of the greatest hockey team on Earth.
There is no greater honor than simply looking onto the ice rink and knowing that the pure red and white I see is not because of my spontaneous eye bleeding – caused by my unrepentant desire to wear a mascot costume at all times – but instead because of the sheer enormity of greatness I am blessed by the heavens to witness.
Every single time you pass Agganis Arena, you should be barking the BU fight song to express your undying love for the arena that BU Ice Hockey calls home. Instead of rushing to your next class as you sprint from West to Questrom, pause and reflect upon the ultimate hierarchy of Boston-area hockey teams.
If you have any respect for the arena whatsoever, you will kiss the doors that lead to the ticketing area every time you catch your reflection in their glistening, perfect glass windows. Furthermore, as you settle into your designated seat at every single home hockey game of the season, know that the coaches and players of BU Ice Hockey expect you to lick the seat with love and passion; anything less than salivatory is grounds for my unforgiving vengeance as the greatest plush terrier mascot in the history of athletics.
Do not fear the ridicule that may accompany your actions, as I have learned to ignore the shame for the knowledge that I will one day be immortalized as a pair of the finest hockey skates to be worn by the male and female players of the year.
You too must learn to relax in the knowledge of solidarity you know share with the glorious, pristine ice of our one true home. Consider yourself lucky that you do not attend one of the plebeian institutions that skates their claim in Cambridge or Chestnut Hill, as they are not, and never will be, within city limits of Boston.
To even consider the possibility of showing basic human respect to one of the inferior organizations that challenges Boston University in ice hockey is the most atrocious and despicable notion to ever wander past my mind. When people begin to doubt the soundness of their reasonably uncomparable loyalties, I forcefully remind them that Boston College has two “Ls” in it for a reason. Any person living under the sick, twisted, and weak illusion that an eagle is more patriotic than a terrier is suffering delusions, and should be contained in the locker of each team member for sixty minutes, rotating on the hour to the next locker.
To even blink while thinking about BU’s abominable ice hockey teams is an atrocious notion that I, in all my years as mascot, could not even fathom. Bow down before the skates that carve the most venerable ice before you, and support the team that is currently ranked top-3 amongst NCAA at risk of otherwise facing unavoidable doom and despair.
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