Shoelace Road

Submitted by MAgoBLUE on

To be read/sung to the tune of Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen

 

 

The whistle blows, Denard’s dreads wave

Like a vision he scampers into the endzone as The Victors plays

Bo Schembechler’s soul is holy

He cared about the team only

Don’t fall apart down the stretch again

I just can’t take another ’09 or ’10

 

Why don’t you stack the box?

You know just what he’s here for

So you’re scared and you’re thinking that maybe he ain’t that fast anymore?

Show a little faith, there’s magic in those shoes

Your team is good but, hey, you’ll still lose

And that’s alright with me

 

You can hide in the locker room

Study the tapes

Game plan for stopping him

Get pressure in his face

 

Waste your Fall praying in vain

For a chance to beat us again

Well Denard’s not accurate that’s certainly true

But all the redemption he needs is in those untied shoes

With a chance to win the B1G somehow

Hey what else can we do now?

 

Except watch every game

And let your jaw drop as you sit and stare

Opposing defenses are busted open

The zone read can take us anywhere

We’ve got one last chance for the seniors

For those who stayed, the dreamers

Get on his back boys glory is waiting down the tracks

 

Ohhh, you can feel it in the stands

The Maize and Blue are headed back to the promised land

Whoa, ohhh Shoelace Road, ohh Shoelace Road, ohh Shoelace Road

 

3rd and long but you know we ain’t done

All receivers covered, he can make it if he runs

Whoa, ohh Shoelace Road. . .sit tight. . .take hold. . .Shoelace Road

 

Well, all of his talent Rich Rod saw right away

“You can play QB” is all he had to say

So Denard went from Florida to Ann Arbor

He didn't bring shoelaces or a barber

 

And I know you’re longing

For titles we haven’t been winning

But this year will be different

All the fans will be singing

 

There are tears in the eyes

Of all the coaches who’ve seen you play

They haunt this hallowed Big House

Like stubborn ghosts who just won’t go away

 

They scream your name at practice the next week

Their tortured defense lies in rags at their feet

In the lonely cool before kickoff

You hear plenty of trash talk

 

But when you get on the field they’re gone

So, Denard, do your thing

It’s a league full of losers

We’re pulling out of here to win