The Legend of Mason Rudolph
L.D. Stanley
The Brownies had it in the bag that autumn Thursday eve
They were up a couple touchdowns. It was late enough to leave
Pittsburgh tossed a screen pass left and ran it out of bounds
Their quarterback was hit again and taken to the ground
You could tell he didn’t like it; he’d been taken down enough
And he wasn’t very clever, and he wasn’t very tough
So he grabbed Myles Garrett’s helmet and he twisted Garrett’s head
It didn’t have to matter if he said the thing they said
There’d been ample instigation because Garrett wasn’t taking
Shit from some punk-ass QB who’d spent the evening shaking
A helmet tugging match ensued that Garrett quickly won
But Mason Rudolph loved to lose and so he wasn’t done
Garrett while restrained and calming, clearly in retreat
Saw Rudolph coming back for more he so loved getting beat
He was charging round the corner all saliva, rage and tears:
A 14-year-old on the rag who’d had too many beers
So Garrett let him have it. Dropped that helmet like a bomb
Rudolph threw his hands up high and turned and hollered, “Mom!”
Everybody shit their pants. It seemed he should be dead
But Myles had used the padded part to whap him on the head
He hadn’t even dinged him. Was a pillow fight at worst
The referees all huddled: What’s on second, Who’s on first
And though the Brownies won the game, it didn’t feel like that
There was no joy in Cleveland after Garrett swung the hat
But more than Rudolph shattered on the night the helmet fell
That arcing shit-black missile blew tradition all to hell
Momentum made a U-turn and a long-lived curse did break
The Steelers never won another ball game on the lake.
