He was a cocky soul,

this boisterous man,

who reveled in the now.

Thumbing his nose at great things past,

much indignant at the laurel bestowed

on the Galloping Ghost.

"Stop living in the was!" he said,

while making fun of some guy named Red.

Complaining about an honor too good

for some local mechanic's namesake.

Not so fast my friend.

Can you say that without Red,

your Satruday heroes

might still have been?

Mock not the was my friend,

Mock not the was.

For without it, the "Is"

might never be.

Are you sure the gridiron monsters

might still roam to our cheers

had the garageman's namesake spectre

never brought the trains from the Lake

to Champaign to see the Ghost gallop?

Belittle the Babe? Sniff at his stanading?

Now, he wouldn't be a star today,

but had he not been who can say

that we would still care when A-Rod launched A-bombs?

Mock not the was my friend,

Scorn not the pioneers

for the day will come when

your "Is" will someone else's

back then be.