I like to play football with my whole team.
I play a place in the first line both sides.
My team is bad but fought our best it seemed;
Although not good, we sure did make good strides.

We laughed, we cried, we sang, we danced and played.
Like friends, like fam, like bros, like foes with pride,
I love my team and never could be swayed.
I gave my all and even would have died—

For this great team I like to call my clique,
We learned trick plays, and one we called “the gate.”
This open gate formation means no kick.
In spite of all our losses, we fought fate.

Our rivals we would make to eat the dirt.
And some would even leave in a ripped shirt.