Where'd You Park the Car?

At the beginning of the post, I should take the time to apologize to those of you who live outside of the "bubble" and have no idea what I am talking about when I say the words "Sing Song." In fact, I apologize because if I took the time to actually explain it to you in sufficient detail, you probably still would not be interested in the subject matter and I would have deprived you of a small portion of your life, which is ebbing away right now...tick, tick, tick.

If you're still reading, and I have no idea why you would be after that stirring exposition, here is my $.02 on Sing Song 2008.

Of course, everyone left Moody on Saturday night talking about how the 6-time reigning champions had been dethroned in both the men's and women's divisions by the Kojie Bumblebess and the evil empire's train conductors, but as someone whose time in Sing Song is past, I'll tell you this: It's almost more difficult to watch as a spectator, than it was to be involved as a competitor/participant (sure, I could use the more gentle, affirming term "participant" solely, but in anything that involved a contest with the moonies, it was nothing if not a competition).

Sure, my time standing on the stage is gone, and that's a good thing, but a small part of me still hurts for the guys in club that had to be there when the dream died. Those that I talked to on Saturday night kept saying that the streak had to end sometime, but you never want to be part of the group responsible for such an event. Despite the fact that ACU has the 4th-highest total number of NCAA Championships behind UCLA, USC, and Stanford, the largest bragging rights on the Hill each year belong to those who win the big event in February.

From Huck Finn to the Beatles to Top Gun to John Travolta to Frogs who turn into Princes to Firemen, that group for the past 6 years was the men of Gamma Sigma Phi. Now, that title has been passed (albeit unwillingly) to our bitter archrivals, the evil empire. Wherever you are to read this, take a little time to hum a few bars of "We Believe" in remembrance of a fairly remarkable streak.