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Full Version: General Matt Campbell addresses the Rockets
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Be seated.

Men of the Glass City, all this stuff you hear about Rockets not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of bull****. Rockets love to fight. All real Rockets love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players and the toughest boxers. Rockets love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Rockets play to win all the time. That's why Rockets have never lost to BGSU in 2176 days (and counting) and will never lose to them again. The very thought of losing to BGSU is hateful to Rockets. A rivalry battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base.

For you freshman Rockets, you are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would likely be killed in a major rivalry game. Every man is scared in his first UT - BGSU action. If he says he's not, he's a ******* liar. But the real hero is the man who fights even though he's scared. Some men will get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take a quarter, and for some it takes a half. But the real man never lets his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to the University of Toledo, and his innate manhood.

All through your Rockets career you men have bitched about what you call 'this chicken-**** two-a-days.' That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. This must be bred into every Rocket player and alumni. I don't give a f**k for a man who is not always on his toes. But the drilling has made veterans of all you men. You are ready! A Rocket has to be alert all the time if he expects to keep on breathing. If not, some Falcon son-of-a-***** will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of ****. There are four hundred neatly marked graves in Bowling Green, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are BGSU Falcon graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before their Coach did.

The Rockets are a team. Rockets live, eat, sleep, and fight as a team. This individual hero stuff is bull****. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the Toledo Blade don't know any more about real battle than they do about f**king. And we have the best team—we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor BGSU bastards we're going up against.

All the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters. Every single man on the Rockets plays a vital role. So don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every walk-on decided that he didn't like the whine of the shells and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' What if every man said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, Rockets don't say that. Every man does his job. Every man is important. The waterboys are needed to supply the Gatoraid, the equipment manager is needed to bring up the gear for us because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot anyone would want to, hell there aren’t even any trees down there for our campfires. Every last damn man on the sidelines, even the one who boils the Wood County water to keep us from getting the Falcon *****, has a job to do.

Each man must think not only of himself, but think of his buddy fighting alongside him. We don't want yellow cowards on the Rockets. They should be killed off like flies. If not, they will go back home after the war, ******* cowards, and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the ******* cowards and we'll have a UT campus of brave men.

One of the bravest men I saw during the Battle of I-75 campaign was sitting up on the goal pole in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward the goal line. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, 'Fixing the little flag thing, sir.' 'Isn't it a little unhealthy up there right now?' I asked. 'Yes sir, but this ******* flag thing has got to be fixed so our placekicker doesn’t miss any more field goals.' I asked, 'Don't those Falcons strafing the turf bother you?' And he answered, 'No sir, but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real Rocket. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time.

And you should have seen the Running Backs towards the goal line in the Red Zone. Those RBs were magnificent. All day and all night these Rocket warriors rolled along that son-of-a-***** Doyt turf never stopping, never deviating from their course, even with Falcons flocking all around them. Many of the men drove relentlessly for 60 consecutive minutes. We got through on good old Rockets guts. These were not ordinary men. They were Rockets with a job to do. They were part of a winning team. Without them the fight would have been lost.

Sure, we all want to go home and get the hell out of Wood County. We want to get this battle over with for another year. But you can't win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it. We want to get the hell down there and clean the ******* thing up, and then get at those orange-pissing Falcons. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home back to the Glass Bowl. The shortest way home is through Perrysburg and Haskins. So keep moving south. And when we get to the Doyt, I am personally going to shoot that paper-hanging son-of-a-***** Freddie Falcon.

When a man is lying on the turf, if he just stays there all day, a Falcon will get him eventually. The hell with that. Rockets don't dig foxholes. Foxholes only slow up an offensive line. Keep moving. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and showing the Falcons that we've got more guts than they have or ever will have. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to rip out their living goddamned guts and use them to grease the tires of our Lakeshore charter buses. We're going to pound those lousy BGSU Falcons by the bushel-f**king-basket.

I don't want any messages from our OC saying 'I'm holding my position.' We're not holding a goddamned thing. We're advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything except the Falcon's balls. We're going to hold him by his balls and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living **** out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. We're going to go through the enemy like STD through a BGSU dorm.

There will be some complaints that we're pushing our people too hard. I don't give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder we push, the more Falcons we kill. The more Falcons we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing harder means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that. My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any Rocket under my command being held to negative yardage unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight for a first down. That's not just bull**** either.

Then there's one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the great I-75 rivalry?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy wore Orange and shoveled **** at the Bowling Green Tractor Pull.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode on to victory with the great Toledo Rockets and a son-of-a-goddamned-***** named Matt Campbell!'

All right, you sons of *******. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere. That's all, and GO ROCKETS!!!
(11-13-2015 08:50 AM)RangerRocket Wrote: [ -> ]Be seated.

Men of the Glass City, all this stuff you hear about Rockets not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of bull****. Rockets love to fight. All real Rockets love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players and the toughest boxers. Rockets love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Rockets play to win all the time. That's why Rockets have never lost to BGSU in 2176 days (and counting) and will never lose to them again. The very thought of losing to BGSU is hateful to Rockets. A rivalry battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base.

For you freshman Rockets, you are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would likely be killed in a major rivalry game. Every man is scared in his first UT - BGSU action. If he says he's not, he's a ******* liar. But the real hero is the man who fights even though he's scared. Some men will get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take a quarter, and for some it takes a half. But the real man never lets his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to the University of Toledo, and his innate manhood.

All through your Rockets career you men have bitched about what you call 'this chicken-**** two-a-days.' That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. This must be bred into every Rocket player and alumni. I don't give a f**k for a man who is not always on his toes. But the drilling has made veterans of all you men. You are ready! A Rocket has to be alert all the time if he expects to keep on breathing. If not, some Falcon son-of-a-***** will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of ****. There are four hundred neatly marked graves in Bowling Green, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are BGSU Falcon graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before their Coach did.

The Rockets are a team. Rockets live, eat, sleep, and fight as a team. This individual hero stuff is bull****. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the Toledo Blade don't know any more about real battle than they do about f**king. And we have the best team—we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor BGSU bastards we're going up against.

All the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters. Every single man on the Rockets plays a vital role. So don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every walk-on decided that he didn't like the whine of the shells and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' What if every man said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, Rockets don't say that. Every man does his job. Every man is important. The waterboys are needed to supply the Gatoraid, the equipment manager is needed to bring up the gear for us because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot anyone would want to, hell there aren’t even any trees down there for our campfires. Every last damn man on the sidelines, even the one who boils the Wood County water to keep us from getting the Falcon *****, has a job to do.

Each man must think not only of himself, but think of his buddy fighting alongside him. We don't want yellow cowards on the Rockets. They should be killed off like flies. If not, they will go back home after the war, ******* cowards, and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the ******* cowards and we'll have a UT campus of brave men.

One of the bravest men I saw during the Battle of I-75 campaign was sitting up on the goal pole in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward the goal line. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, 'Fixing the little flag thing, sir.' 'Isn't it a little unhealthy up there right now?' I asked. 'Yes sir, but this ******* flag thing has got to be fixed so our placekicker doesn’t miss any more field goals.' I asked, 'Don't those Falcons strafing the turf bother you?' And he answered, 'No sir, but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real Rocket. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time.

And you should have seen the Running Backs towards the goal line in the Red Zone. Those RBs were magnificent. All day and all night these Rocket warriors rolled along that son-of-a-***** Doyt turf never stopping, never deviating from their course, even with Falcons flocking all around them. Many of the men drove relentlessly for 60 consecutive minutes. We got through on good old Rockets guts. These were not ordinary men. They were Rockets with a job to do. They were part of a winning team. Without them the fight would have been lost.

Sure, we all want to go home and get the hell out of Wood County. We want to get this battle over with for another year. But you can't win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it. We want to get the hell down there and clean the ******* thing up, and then get at those orange-pissing Falcons. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home back to the Glass Bowl. The shortest way home is through Perrysburg and Haskins. So keep moving south. And when we get to the Doyt, I am personally going to shoot that paper-hanging son-of-a-***** Freddie Falcon.

When a man is lying on the turf, if he just stays there all day, a Falcon will get him eventually. The hell with that. Rockets don't dig foxholes. Foxholes only slow up an offensive line. Keep moving. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and showing the Falcons that we've got more guts than they have or ever will have. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to rip out their living goddamned guts and use them to grease the tires of our Lakeshore charter buses. We're going to pound those lousy BGSU Falcons by the bushel-f**king-basket.

I don't want any messages from our OC saying 'I'm holding my position.' We're not holding a goddamned thing. We're advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything except the Falcon's balls. We're going to hold him by his balls and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living **** out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. We're going to go through the enemy like STD through a BGSU dorm.

There will be some complaints that we're pushing our people too hard. I don't give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder we push, the more Falcons we kill. The more Falcons we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing harder means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that. My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any Rocket under my command being held to negative yardage unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight for a first down. That's not just bull**** either.

Then there's one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the great I-75 rivalry?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy wore Orange and shoveled **** at the Bowling Green Tractor Pull.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode on to victory with the great Toledo Rockets and a son-of-a-goddamned-***** named Matt Campbell!'

All right, you sons of *******. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere. That's all, and GO ROCKETS!!!

03-lmfao I recall John Schnieder being furious when we held Bolden out of a "meaningless". BG game. "If you can crawl, you play that game, no excuses". BG can't hold a candle to us but our Candle needs to read this speech and feature the Infantry and not the Air Corps!
Shades of the great General George Patton.......
Love it RangerRocket!! If that doesn't get you fired up, I don't know what will. GO ROCKETS!!!!
Love It!
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!
(11-18-2015 11:10 AM)RangerRocket Wrote: [ -> ]MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!

Great game and the UT fans where outstanding. Couldn't ask for anything better.No smiling faces aon any of the BG fans after the game.
(11-18-2015 11:22 AM)FrickerRon Wrote: [ -> ]
(11-18-2015 11:10 AM)RangerRocket Wrote: [ -> ]MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!!

Great game and the UT fans where outstanding. Couldn't ask for anything better.No smiling faces aon any of the BG fans after the game.

We definitely outnumbered BG fans after the five minute mark of the fourth.
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