Now, I want you to remember that no team ever won a championship by losing to its in-state rival. They won it by making every poor dumb bastard team they play so bruised up they'll lose to their in-state rival.
Men, all this stuff you've heard about Louisville not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of Commonwealth Stadium, is a lot of horse dung. Louisville, traditionally, loves to play hard. All real Cardinals love the sting of scrimmage.
When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Louisville football fans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Cardinals play to win all the time. Now, I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a fan who's team lost and laughed. That's why Louisville has never lost this game under me, and will never lose this game under me. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Cardinals.
Now, a team is an army. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as an army. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don't know anything more about real football than they do about fornicating.
Now, we have the facilities and equipment, the best spirit, and the best players in the state. You know, by God, I actually pity those poor bastards we're going up against. By God, I do. We're not just going to beat the bastards. We're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our treadmills. We're going to murder those lousy smurf bastards by the bushel.
Now, some of you guys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken-out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Slapdicks are the enemy. Wade into them. Twist their ankle. Knee them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of poo that a moment before was flung onto the field, you'll know what to do.
Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't want to get any flags saying that we were holding. We're not holding anybody. Let the Smurf do that. We are advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything -- except the trophy. We're not going to hold onto them by the face mask, but we're gonna kick them in the ass. We're gonna kick the hell out of them all the time, and we're gonna run through them like crap through a goose!
Now, there's one thing that you men will be able to say after you graduate, and you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you're sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you, "What did you do in the Governor's Cup?" -- you won't have to say, "Well, I chose to play for Kentucky."
Alright now you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel.
Oh, I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys in any game, anytime, anywhere.