But when the children came, they broke the curse, with the help of Aslan.

When the goodhearted children came, they broke the curse with the help of Aslan.

 

O Aslan, O Aslan, O Aslan.

He helped the children break the curse of the white witch.

 

Ah, C., my eyes have seen wonders—

And fairy tales the kind of C.S.L. lead us through ancient wardrobes into the mysteries of the eternal.

 

We laugh and dismiss them at our peril. We laugh and dismiss them at our own peril.

But C.S.L., what a storyteller, what a weaver of an infinity of spells, what a weaver

Of worlds beyond worlds, and mysteries beyond mysteries, and puzzles beyond puzzles!

 

We have all drunk deep of the mysteries of C.S.L, like we have drunk deep of your star-clad accomplishments, C and now across the silken parabola, and now across the silken parabola, the fauns pull in a purple banner, ah, the fauns pull in a purple banner,

 

Bearing your name across the winter-free sky;

Bearing your name across the winter-free sky.

 

Talking of the Chronicles of Narnia, do you know C, that that night

As we pored over dog-eared tomes the size of C.S.L.’s magic wardrobes,

We tried to cast spells too in the manner of razor-sharp arguments

To hurl like heavy suitcases the weight of laser-sharp lances before our professors?

 

We were nearly thwarted in the effort

By a streaking light flying swifter

Than the wind-sired feet of Pegasus.

F-L-A-S-H, F-L-A-S-H past the windows of Allen.

F-L-A-S-H, F-L-A-S-H past the windows of Odegaard.

F-L-A-S-H, F-L-A-S-H past the windows of Suzzallo

And countless other buildings on the storied campus,

The seat of the mighty Dawg Nation.

 

Aha, the seat of the mighty Dawg Nation,

Aha, the seat of the mighty Dawg Nation,

Aha, the seat of the mighty Dawg Nation.

 

The fellow, whether it was a comet or no,

none of us could tell,

Flew swifter than gray-bearded Zephyr,

Flew swifter than anything we had ever seen,

Flew swifter than anything we could tell,

And C, ah, lovely C, ah, star fire of star fires,

You must know we have Rhodes scholars in DN.

You must know we have Mellon scholars in DN.

You must know we have Gates scholars in DN.

You must know we have fellows upon fellows upon fellows in DN.

You must know we sit at the table of Everest with the brightest of the brightest of the

                                            stars,

And we wondered what it was, and sharp minds, honed by years

Of poring over gray-haired tomes, telescopes, microscopes, slides, and all sorts of investigative technology went to work, for isn’t it true that all who come to DN must show their mettle’s worth in the hallowed courts of knowledge? And, so, we did not ask less of ourselves than the standards set by past warriors in the fray.

 

We jousted, C, we jousted, firepower matching firepower, the thinking rods

Of our brains all bent to the purpose at hand, until like a bottle of champagne popping,

Someone suddenly cried from our camp, Eureka! only to be joined by other voices, like a bevy of popping sounds, ah, like a bevy of popping sounds, ah, like a bevy of popping sounds, when champagne bottles overflow with joy.

 

A shooting star

A shooting star

A shooting star

 

And C, do you know hugging its bosom

Was the legend: Christal Marie, All-Pacific Ten First Team?

We laughed like the roaring voice of Victoria Falls.

We laughed like the rumbling thunder when the sky is throwing a fit.

We laughed like the sea on its march to meet its big cousin the ocean.

We laughed and screamed like English soccer fans who had sold their birthrights

To Bacchus.

We laughed like cocktails fired in the wake of the armada.

CM, if Effingham, Drake, and Hawkins had not defeated the Spanish Armada, would there have been a different history?

My mind sometimes plays these games? If B had happened instead of A,

What would history have looked like? When you are in some lonely cubicle in DN,

Garrisoned off by books, it is amazing what the mind can do to you? You ask, and you ask, until you brain turns blue, ah, until your brain turns blue, ah, until your brain turns blue. But, mercy Lord, isn’t the mind never tired of hurling these questions

Before the jury of the mind? Questions come like butterflies. Some stay, some go. Some

Whip the mind like a devil with scars all over its face. Well, let me leave such questions alone. Leave questions alone? Ah, ah, ah.

Forget English fans, C, we danced better than them that day when we saw

The shooting star bearing your name. Forget English fans, C, we danced better

Than them when we saw the shooting star bearing the name of the graceful cat,

Candace. Ah, Candace! Lithe lynx, whose infectious roar at the dug-up ball

Makes the heart and mind sing like a young girl doing the waltz.

At first I thought, why did she scream so? But in the heat of battle, such a joyous

Cry isn’t it worth more than its weight in precious stones? Adrenaline oozes

Through every pore, and the good sportswoman puts all her talent in the fray,

Lonely moments in the weight room, crowded moments on the practice court,

And before the lights are tuned out in the practice facilities, the thud, thud, thud!

Of the ball ricocheting here, and ricocheting there, its unmusical sound every

Bit as sweet as the music of an emperor nightingale to her ears. And after all these

To hit the books, to hit them hard as if her life depends on them?

Ah, the sportswoman who stands as tall as the cider tree on the court and in the classroom

Is a miracle. O, she is a miracle. O, she is a miracle. O, she is a miracle of incredible beauty. O, she is a wonder of wonders, a wonder of wonders, a wonder of wonders.

She has worked hard on the hard courts and in the arena where the sages gather to contemplate the wonders of existence, ah, to contemplate the wonders of existence, and her name should be on some wall of honor, dark lines in a bar of gold, and let those who are coming after her, children yet in the grade schools be escorted to such shrines of honor, and let her story be told, O let her story be told, O let her story be told, that young ones may learn to keep body and mind alert and at their best.

 

They will fare better than Pythagoras and his bands.

They will fare better than Pythagoras and his bands.

 

Dawg land

Dawg land

Dawg land

 

On the breast of the shooting star was the name of the svelte opera conductor too,

Courtney, expert ball charmer, charms the ball to the magical spot

For the screaming kill!

 

Dawg land

Dawg land

Dawg land

 

And Brie, laughter-loving Brie, shy as a lotus-flower Brie,

Your partner in crime, some day your children will look

At your exploits on the square court, and shake their heads

In dizzy amazement, moms where you so stellar?

Keep these memories then, and the images too.

On same rainy day, when the sky is cloudy,

And the sun seems to have set too soon

For the day, bring them out, and let memory

Sing like the song sparrow.

Let memory sing like the song sparrow.

Let memory sing like the song sparrow

And let the sun come in. And let the sun come in.

 

There was too the Serbian Cinderella, Sanya,

Regal, queenly in every stride.

Some day when a movie director

Tells your stories, she is certain to give

Sanya’s character several minutes,

From war-torn country to queen of the court

In the land of the stars and stripes?

Thousands of miles across the world,

In search of the knowledge key,

And the laurels of the hard court,

Not even a war could deter her,

And she plays with so much

Joy, one would think her story

Was a different story. Let those

Who underestimate the joyous

Tenor of sports then take note.

The joy of life often so hard

To come by is ever so often

In abundant display on the hard courts

Of college sports, where student

Warriors go into the fray for love

Of the game. When my student

Days end in DN, C, I will carry

With me some golden memories,

And the DN V-Ball Team will be one of them.