Remember this when watching Michigan tomorrow

Also this- Your ship may be coming in, you're weak but not giving in... And you'll fight it, you'll go out fighting all of them.

"David put his hand in the bag and took out a stone and slung it. And it struck the Philistine on the head and he fell to the ground. Amen." - Hoosiers preacher guy/Page ? Bible.

That no matter what the outcome of the game is tomorrow, we need to do whatever is in our power to fight off the naysayers about Coach Rodriguez. After watching the Vincent Smith video, I am now certain that this offense is going to be spectacular to watch in another year. Once we get many of the redshirted recruits on the field from the 09 class, the defense should be much better as a unit. I have confidence that the administration has faith in RR, but we need to take it upon ourselves to prevent these fickle clowns from ruining any type of foundation currently in place. Just my two cents.

Honestly, remember this: A real Michigan Man will wear his maize and blue on Sunday... no matter what happens. If you're not with us, you are against us. Adversity will only remove the weakness, and leave us strong. Be strong, boys. Our team has sixty minutes to fight with pride. GO BLUE.

People are watching. This game tomorrow has meaning for the recruits. If we support our team when they are down, everyone will know that the Michigan family sticks together no matter what. They may take the game, but they'll never take OUR UNIVERSITY (best imagined with a Scotish brogue)

"Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." -Dylan Thomas

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our Michigan dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the Wolverine; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest Wolverines." /Shakespeare'd

Someone more creative than me could probably edit this to fit our team exactly: WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day! KING. What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin; If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

For those who know victory requires the ultimate in self-confidence: "Undaunted, I knew the game was mine to win. Just like in life, all of my successes depend on me. I'm the man who has the ball. I'm the man who can throw it faster than fuck. So that is why I am better than everyone in the world. Kiss my ass and suck my dick, everyone."-Kenny Powers