We Cusians go about our business, oblivious to the world that once was...and may be again. A world of magic (not the Johnson kind), from a time of yore and an age long since forgotten.
The Time of the Dragons.
I am here to tell you, dear fellow Orangite...the return of that day soon approaches.
For many years we have not feared the return of those beasts. Once a mighty force in the land, they have been banished to the netherworld (aka Colonial Athletic Conference). Out of our memory they fell, to feast on the Toledos and Fairleigh Dickensons while we stuffed our faces, sure that Final Fours and a National Championship would sate us.
But we grew complacent. We looked away from the past. We forgot.
They didn't.
Now tomorrow, the Dragons come to take what was once theirs. They come, not as a Baylor or Colgate or but as a legitimate threat to our way of life. They dispatched with the Wildcats of Villanova for the first time ever. You may think it a fluke but those who fear the Dragons know better. They come bearing legendary names like Bashir and Elegar, who are unimpressed by the likes of Demetris Nichols and his double-digit scoring. They fear no man, at least not in the paint where they are among the country's best shot-blocking teams (along with Syracuse).
Take heed, the Day of the Dragon is upon us. Only one man can stop them. One man, who as prophecy tells us, has the orange blood of a race of warriors long forgotten...the Dragon Riders. He must make a stand, here and now, or else we shall perish in the fires of our own insolence.
He is...Beoragon!
(apologies for the assumption that I have any PhotoShop skills)
The Time of the Dragons.
I am here to tell you, dear fellow Orangite...the return of that day soon approaches.
For many years we have not feared the return of those beasts. Once a mighty force in the land, they have been banished to the netherworld (aka Colonial Athletic Conference). Out of our memory they fell, to feast on the Toledos and Fairleigh Dickensons while we stuffed our faces, sure that Final Fours and a National Championship would sate us.
But we grew complacent. We looked away from the past. We forgot.
They didn't.
Now tomorrow, the Dragons come to take what was once theirs. They come, not as a Baylor or Colgate or but as a legitimate threat to our way of life. They dispatched with the Wildcats of Villanova for the first time ever. You may think it a fluke but those who fear the Dragons know better. They come bearing legendary names like Bashir and Elegar, who are unimpressed by the likes of Demetris Nichols and his double-digit scoring. They fear no man, at least not in the paint where they are among the country's best shot-blocking teams (along with Syracuse).
Take heed, the Day of the Dragon is upon us. Only one man can stop them. One man, who as prophecy tells us, has the orange blood of a race of warriors long forgotten...the Dragon Riders. He must make a stand, here and now, or else we shall perish in the fires of our own insolence.
He is...Beoragon!
(apologies for the assumption that I have any PhotoShop skills)