Jim Boeheim putting on his imaginary championship belt. (Photo by Mitchell Layton/Getty Images)
Georgetown lost. I lost. And now we all lose. As a result of a bet I made with Hoya Suxa, I am contractually obligated to pen a poem extolling Jim Boeheim. I am never betting again, well at least not until the next time Georgetown plays Syracuse.
Submitted for the approval of
the midnight society Hoya Suxa, I call this Shakespearean Sonnet : An Ode to JB.
(Poem After the Jump)
A foe and villain; friend you'll never be.
A post-game menace; media, be warned.
Annoying, smug, and so gosh-darn whiny.
Dare to speak against, you'll face Magoo scorn.
But who am I to judge? From where this right?
I'm just a sad fan of the losing school.
Success for you, by no means rare a sight.
And one HOT wife: how did you land Ms. Jules?
So Jim, to you I say deserved congrats.
On Georgetown's home court you have won again.
While Thompson Three appeared as a rugrat.
Leave us with naught and take pride in your win.
Sustained success, one of the few to claim.
Enjoy your due spot, in the Hall of Fame.