Several of the
younger Bluejays took to despair after losing two at North Central; I certainly
did. That’s when Rachel brought up the
debacle of two years ago—we dropped two to perennial CCIW doormat North Park
and still made the postseason. Thank God
for seniors with moxie.
I’m just happy I
stopped replaying that walk-off in my head—and finally figured out a
cheer. For three years, between “Clare-Bear!” and “Boo-kow-ski!”, there was a cheer that always sounded like
gibber to me, until Wednesday. Clearly, I
was deaf, but now I hear. It goes
something like this: “Shot comin’
on/shot comin’ on! I feel a shot comin’
on!”
Clare.
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