"the Saban" (homage to "the Raven")

My personal rendition

The Saban

Once upon a season wond'rous, Every team had fallen und'r us
Over many a ranked and furious team did we proceed to score
In atlanta we were playing ,While the gumps at home were staying
And the voters, fiercely swaying, swaying for a chance once more.
"we beat them at home" we stated, "9-6 the final score- Saban lost, just as before"

Ah distinctly we remember, it was the fifth of November,
And though Saban's team was limber, many times they failed to score
Many times they tried to run it, vainly though and forced to punt it,
By the Tiger D, so stunted, failed to move the chains once more
for alone upon their roster, twas the foster name he bore,
Four field goals he failed to score

And gumps on who were relying, The coach they'd been edifying, 
Stammered-clamored for the vaunted coach they'd plucked from
Florida's shore
So that now they stood a-praying to the coach, that they were paying 
"tis some fluke of fate the better team has failed again to score-
Some damnable luck the Hat has bartered away his soul for,
This it is, and nothing more"

After that the gump delusion, amid BCS confusion 
When, those teams, not beaten, fell to some opponents, records poor.
But because the media loved them, just one team was placed above them
Little ill was spoken of them, "they were robbed" the pundits swore
"they are still the better team, and"- here they disregard the score;- "would win if they played once more"

So went on the season thund'ring, more unbeatens succumbed blund'ring
To lackluster teams no gambling man was likely betting for
But the tigers were unbroken, each opponent got a soakin'
But the word that now was spoken and that one could scarce ignore,
Was "a rematch" and the networks begged for Nick to play once more!
BCS shook at its core

So the football world was churning, many coaches upon learning,
They'd not have a chance at earning, cash a champ'nship berth bore
"surely" said they "surely there is something that will give good reason,
That the loss within the season knocks them down to three or four-
Choose a team that has not already lost to Les Miles before-
If not what did they play for?"

Entered now the coaching chatter, he who lost to the Mad Hatter
In now stepped the haughty Saban whom the gumps all bowed before.
Not the least obeisance made he, not a gesture humble gave he;
But undaunted and unswayed he, stated they should play once more-
Spoke with voice so cold and callous in that crimson shirt he wore-
Said, the Hat, he'd play once more

But Les Miles was beguiling, patiently and subtly smiling
In stark contrast to the grim visage his short opponent wore
Though the media adored him still they asked, nay, they implored him,
Miles, they all but ignored him, ran instead to Saban's door.
"Tell us what your strategy is to avert what came before!"
Quoth the Saban "We will score"

Much they fawned over his statement and there was little abatement
Though his answer little reason- little accuracy bore
For if one looked at the stat breakdown, Tigers stuffed them in their hometown 
Even their star running back was held to naught a touchdown score
And their vaunted offense scarcely crossed the yard of twenty-four.
Yet some gave them the edge once more.

But the gumps in Tuscaloosa bore their fangs like the Medusa
And their confidence in their tide from each mouth it did outpour
Never showed they signs of stopping, posting stats on Tigerdroppings,
Out their heads their eyes were popping, as they fiercely mashed keyboards.
Rules of grammar oft escaped them as they misused "you're" and "your"
And so vehemently they swore

But in Stillwater was rendered such a rout some pundits tendered
OK State as a contender, and none knew what was in store
For a one loss conf'rence champ'n
Alabama's chance could dampen
And many folk at bits were champin' for a game not played before.
Till computers and the voters tallied up the final score
The Cowboys fell short once more

All the tide fans now were squealing, finally they'd clinched the feeling, 
To the ground they all fell kneeling, thrilled they'd snuck in the back door;
Then upon the TV, Saban stood beside his image graven 
Thronged by crimson clad unshaven gumps drunk from the night before-
To this host of hoary, harried, hedonistic gumps he swore!
Quoth the Saban "We will score!"

So each day the game drew nearer, but the gameplan was no clearer,
How would Bama overcome the team that they could not before?
So they sat there plotting, planning,  fans prepared for caravanning,
And a constant Rammer-Jamming across Bama drifted o'er
And a constant yell of "Roll Tide" echoed down to the Gulf Shore
Of a win, they all were sure

Then, methought, the air grew staler, 'twas a stench of redneck trailer,
Brought by Bama fans whose convoys honked as down I-10 they bore.
"Gumps", I sighed, "by most are hated, and what's worse they're all related, 
At least- or kinfolk they have dated,  surely once or twice before"
Quaff!, I'll quaff, this booze and then see, if these gumps I can endure
'Til I hear "roll tide" no more

Morning! game day, throngs of people, coming still, packed in vehicles.
Under tailgate tent or packing every inch of barroom floors
Decorated, all undaunted, each team's fighting colours flaunted
Scalper's tickets sorely wanted, prices to the skies they soared.
And then- Gates did open, and into the dome the fans did pour
Quoth the Tigers "WIN ONCE MORE!"

Kickoff, it was just beginning, each team cared for naught but winning, 
Oh so fearsomely they battled, 'twas not football, this was war!
On each down the pigskin hunted, players crashed and smashed and grunted, 
many times the ball was punted and drove down the field once more.
On the sidelines paced the coaches, underneath their breath they swore,
Quoth the Saban, "We Must Score!"

And as time away was ticking,  score tied up from field goal kicking, 
'Til a Tiger intercepted, and there rose a deaf'ning roar!
And amid ecstatic screamin', as if possessed by a demon, dodging tackles, bobbing weavin' to the endzone for a score!
And Nick Saban's snarling visage matched the crimson shirt he wore.
Tigers win,  just as before

And the Saban, twice defeated, back in Bama, was he greeted
With no fanfare nor elation, for no Crystal Ball he bore.
The excuses they'd been plying, not a single soul was buying, and there could be no denying, All that mattered was the score.
And which team was better there was no question from shore to shore.
TIGERS, champions once more!