The Samford Crimson

Issue date: 9/26/07 Section: Opinion

Media Credit: Brittany Raymond

Recently, I was walking through the ravine behind the Science Center and contemplating an unsolvable theoretical quandary: why does the administration continue to pour wheelbarrows of cash into the black hole that is Samford football? Do we have any financial advisors on retainer who are of the opinion that the incessant frivolous football funding is wise? If a silver lining is to be found, it is surely the new coaching staff. But I do not wish to beat that dead horse. In fact, it was to an animal that I brought my problems deep in the mysterious ravine a few days ago.

Potentate Pentuck Pegorovich, the leader of the mighty squirrel empire that graciously allowed Howard to construct a university inside its territory, is far and away the wisest of all sages for tens of miles around. My history with the potentate is long and colorful, and my friendship with him is the reason behind my recent decision to forego squirrel hunting. The squirrel kingdom is modern in political thought and ancient in its approach to warfare. None of the squirrels are armed, but all are trained from birth in the martial art of gorcivak. This deadly fighting science allows the squirrel population to live in a state of constant readiness and is designed around tree-based air attacks. The squirrels rarely fight on the ground3 but keep their combat confined to the conifers and oaks around campus.

If, however, an unusually bold tribe of rogue rodents attacked from the surrounding forest and brought the battle to the open fields of the Quad, the circling hawks would immediately descend and decimate the enemy. The hawks, of course, live under the dominion of the Empire, as Pegorovich's ancestors were falconers. Ever so rarely, the hawks can be seen taking a squirrel to talon: this is doubtlessly a spy that has been uncovered by the Dassom, which is the intelligence agency of the empire. This domination of the raptors gives the Empire air supremacy in war (which is constant) and is also the reason for the remarkable tameness of the squirrel citizens.

If asked about the Empire, the administration will honestly inform you of their ignorance.

Dr. Westmoreland, on the other hand, is a different story. He oversees a bustling trade between the Empire and the university and sits on Pegorovich's council. This was where I first met Dr. Westmoreland: at the House of Acorns (the congress of the rodents). Although our president does not approve of the constant combat, he cannot make a demand upon an all-powerful empire. He wisely does not wish to follow in the footsteps of Gulliver - even small enemies have power in numbers. Dr. Westmoreland uses squirrel production to supply the Caf - the Empire produces a highly flexible food product made of acorn powder, which is transformed by our chefs into "fish" and "eggs." The squirrels brew a strong drink from the acorn powder, but it is intended for the masses. Potentate Pentuck Pegorovich, being a Cossack, smuggles Belvedere onto his Samford-overseen territory, and Dr. Westmoreland is forced to turn a blind eye.

How ironic that so many young idealists who wish to make history tread daily upon the grounds of one of the greatest empires in rodent history: the sprawling, warlike Squirrel Empire.

As usual, the Potentate was silent for three minutes before thinking, and when he spoke, his words were few: "Josh, my experience in life has taught me the value of patience. My experience in war has taught me that a squad of dedicated soldiers is to be feared above a larger squad that stands on its reputation or history instead of its own accomplishments. As for your football team, give them time, and show your support.
Few things matter more in life than motivation, and anyone can do anything if they are not plagued by self doubt." As always, I felt much smaller after being humbled by the wisdom of Potentate Pentuck Pegorovich.

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