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Page 115 text:
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JaUH and the f oHcu kU S CkfU Jkcmp PH For many years did Jason, Aeson ' s son, devote his time and studies to the cause of being master of that violent sport, where men, protected by thick pads and guards, attempt to smash and crush and thump and hit and bash and punch and kick and twist and wrench and maim and break and tear and squash their foes (unless, of course, they feel most fine that day and simply tear their limbs off in the fray.) The sport of which I sing is known to all ' tis none but you Canadian football. So guide me, Muses, that I might sing true of all that Jason and his team achieved in times before I to this world did come. Release the font of truth to this poor soul, as he attempts to trace their path through time. And tell how Jason sought the Golden Fleece for Glory, he who favours few and damns for the rest to die unknown in seas of grief. Please bless my venture, that 1 might succeed in writing this, my first attempt at verse. Calliope I ask to send a smile from quiet woods atop Parnassian heights, and cast a peace like murmur of the stream, which flows with mazy motion down the slope to flee its source - the pure Castalian spring. I ' ve poured the nectar of the bees, with milk upon the ground, so help me. Muses, with this story and the rhyme with which I ' m bound. Part III And so it was that cocky Pelias let Jason coach the fateful Argonoughts. And Jason, guided by a godly hand, set up the season ' s game plans straight away. To help him to design aggressive plays, young Jason hired Argus, mastermind of many football teams in Canada. This Argus was an expert in his trade, and with experience and football sense, he molded Jason such a clever plan of counters, draws, reverses, on-side kicks, and end-arounds and fast off-tackle plays, that Jason called these strategies his ship , and christened her The Argo, as a high praise to her inventor, the gifted shipwright, he whose work would turn the Argos right around, to gloried champions from a backwoods team. As soon as Argus and young Aeson ' s son
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Page 114 text:
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The bell rang in a distant hallway and ended the hours of the school day. Jamie collected his assortment of books and turned to make his way out of the small schoolhouse. He managed to exit from the classroom without being caught in the current of the rushing older boys. Once he had been sent sprawling, his books carpeting the hallway, and now he was wary to keep his distance. Out in the schoolyard he felt a surge of elation, but then it was ended as soon as it started. His father stood waiting for him a few feet from the gate, half hidden by a tree. He was dressed in overalls, covered in mud and his shirt showed the signs of strenuous work. Jamie glanced around, spotted the group of boys snickering, and quickly walked to his father ' s side. Some pebbles struck him in the back, but he kept on. Together they turned and walked towards their farm at the edge of the county. Jamie looked in desperation at the endless flat horizon of the prairies, and noticed his father was idly chatting. ... and the sow ' s almost at that time y ' know son, soon we ' ll have piglets by the score. He noticed Jamie ' s thoughts were elsewhere so they continued in silence. Once at home Jamie ran to his room to change his clothes for chores. He glanced out the window and spied the enormous waves of the sea and the furious storm whipping the water into a frenzied dance. Lightning flashed and Jamie ' s dad called him to the barn. In the barn Jamie grabbed the bag of oats and lugged it over to the pig stalls. Carefully he poured the grain into the feeding trough. The avalanche cascaded downwards, the snow engulfed trees and whole towns. The entire valley would soon be filled when the pig snorted and Jamie grabbed at the oats bag. He worked through his chores quickly, not minding them much because his mind was in another world. Out in the fields he dug trench after trench with his hoe, braving the scorching sun and the dives of the enemy birds. At supper the clanking of cutlery on china indicated the uneasiness of the family. Halfway through eating his potatoes, Jamie ' s father asked him if he could walk him home from school the next day, he could finish work early. No, Jamie screamed in his mind. Why? The problems I have, trying to explain why you come in dirty clothes, reeking of the barn and the earth. They tease me about you, about how poor we are. Just once, please let me be like the rest, to stay with everyone else. No one else ' s father comes to the school, why me, there ' s no reason! But to hurt your feelings, the embarrassment, isn ' t there a way out? Jamie continued eating in silence, and his father finished eating hi s potatoes. At school the next day Jamie cringed at his classmate ' s teasing, and the day dragged on as usual. Nearing the final bell, he readied himself for the inevitable. He felt no anger at his classmates, no resentment; just envy. The bell rang, the school day ended, and Jamie cautiously made his way to the door. Outside he checked the yard three times, and his father was nowhere to be seen; it was as if his father had read his mind. He felt a tingle up his back, and Jamie realized he was free, for the afternoon. He dumped his books and ran to the group of boys gathered in the centre of the dirt schoolyard. As he joined them Jamie became aware of a huge wall of separation between him and the others. Everyone stared at him, their faces blank. Soon one shouted to him, and gradually all were yelling at him to keep away and get lost. He turned and someone pushed him into the dust. Jamie scrambled up, grabbed his books and ran down the long road towards home. A tear reflected in his eye, and he gathered his thoughts once again. The tear fell to the ground, discarded, as Jamie trudged through the snow against the sharp icy wind. He climbed over huge ice cliffs, and plowed forward in the glistening snow, and clambered across frozen lakes to reach home. Jamie by Rasko Ristic
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Page 116 text:
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had built the Argo of the stoutest wood, that sat and pondered who would best fit in the many spots and places to be held to make the Argos be the greatest team to ever dirty knees on churning grass or hold a J5V within their grasp. By advertising in The Globe and Star. they made it clear to all who would try out, that practices would start in not too long at SAC ' s Aurora campus, where the Argos were to form a mighty team and settle down, the season to prepare. And after Jason made three rounds of cuts, and like a farmer threshing in the warmth of ripened summer ' s weakened noonday sun, he flailed the chaff, then winnowed in the breeze to leave the kernels standing by themselves. O Muses, I am sure you know them well, those heroes who were chosen for the team - their names are now quite common household words, particularly as they all appear on T.V. ads, extolling rental cars, green toothpaste, soap and extra-thinned out beer. 4i 4c!|i)|i from Part IV The Argos travelled to the Chytan port that ' s on the island we call Montreal. and many Doliones, loyal fans, were there to greet them, led by Cyzicus, and gave the players hospitality. The Argos played the Giants, hometown team, before a roaring crowd which wanted blood to cover the Olympic Stadium. The Giants (who were once called Alouettes) just like the rabbit at a grey hound race or like a started bird which flees the tree, soon jumped to take a lead of fourteen points - the crowd replied appreciatively. O things looked dire for the Argonoughts, two touchdowns down in ten short minutes ' play; and watching how the Giants hugged themselves you ' d think they had already won the game. But Hercules, the Argo captain strong, was not about to hang his cleats up yet. and, rallying, the team renewed their strength just as a snowball coursing down a hill picks up more speed, momentum and more weight until it roars like heaven torn asunder, and o ' er the land proclaims itself like thunder. So did the Argonoughts their form recover that by the final gun it was a slaughter. (these are excerpts from a longer 15,000 word mock-epic.)
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