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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.