The Fanboys Are Coming! The Fanboys Are Coming!

Listen to your superiors and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Pinhead Revere
On the 1st of December, 2006
Waving around BU glow sticks
Recalling that 5-0 beatdown without shedding a tear

He said to his fellow pinhead, "If the fanboys march
By camel or T from Baghdad U to-night,
Hang a glowstick aloft in the belfry arch
Of Gasson Tower as a signal light - -
One if by camel, Two if by T
And I on the disgusting end of Comm Ave will be.
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
It's not March or April, BU can do harm
And tell America's Team to be up and to arm".

Then he said "Good-night!" and without saying more
Silently crept through the decrepit Kenmore,
Just as the moon rose over Fenway,
Fanboys danced and waved glowsticks all night and day.
Then over to Warren Towers, a Baghdad U. base-of-war;
Stepping over homeless drunks and an obese rat
Blocking the moon are the BU coeds, grotesquely fat.
And a huge white elephant, its emptiness was magnified
EggAnus Arena where their hockey program died.


BU students begin the short trek up Commonwealth Avenue hoping their team doesn't stink as bad as they do.

Meanwhile, his stalker through alley and street
Waits and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him Alex hears.
The herds of fanboys at the trolley door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
Living one of his worst fears,
BU hockey is a power no more.

Then pinhead#1 climbed to the top of Gasson Tower,
Overlooking Conte Forum and its hockey power.
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead.
Creepy and dark except a rare light reflection
Moving angrily in the tower like a fanboy recalling his BC rejection.
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Then he paused to listen and looked down to the quad
Soon the fanboys will come, so queer and so odd
And Angry Jack's liquor flowing over all.


Taking a break to set up camp during their journey to Chestnut Hill, BU coeds call Domino's Pizza for "reinforcements".

Beneath, in the quad, they sleep like the dead
In their nice dorm rooms on the "Hill",
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, the 300 lbs BU coed's tread.
The watchful night-wind, as it so quickly stopped
Like BU's hockey team in March - a turd that just plopped,
Into the toilet, but "Where's your Beanpot?!"
Says the fanboys, who think Star Jones is hot.
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the pinhead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are dropped.
On a shadowy T Station far away,
Disembarks Fanboy Nation - mostly gay.
A line of scarlet that rolls off the train,
To cry in the end and go home in pain

Meanwhile, impatient to get in and ride,
Pacing near his driver, with his heavy bride.
On the opposite side of Comm Ave stood Pinhead Revere.
Now he waits at his limo's side,
He gazed at the ugly BU "campus" near.
Then, impetuous, stamped the concrete ground,
And kicked away any rats that he found;
But mostly he watched with an eagle eye
Gasson Tower standing tall in the sky.
As it rose above the campus on the Hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of fluorescent light!
He springs into the limo, and almost goes,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second glowstick in the belfry glows.

A hurry of foreigners in the BU village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk of lard,
Finding someone that spoke English without swearing was hard.
As they waltzed around like Keith Johnson with his jailbait,
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of Pinhead Nation's team was riding that night;
Leaving faster than John Sabo at "The Avenue" barfight,
Or BU fans in Worcester after they accepted their fate.


Back at the BU campus, the walkways remain empty, especially during lunchtime.

Pinhead Revere got into his limousine,
And drank vintage Bordeaux and ate fine cuisine.
To the fanboys at "The Dugout" where they hide,
He waved goodbye on the "campus" edge,
Soon there would be fanboys jumping off the ledge,
From their nights with hefty coeds, packed with Astroglide.

It was twelve by the Packards Corner clock
When he crossed the train tracks into Brighton town.
Warning the patrons of "Great Scotts" who were cocked,
Some of whom were from BU, clutching a Lane Bryant catalog,
Waving their glowsticks that cut through the fog,
That come out at the clubs when sun goes down.

It was one when he reached Cleveland Circle this time,
When he rode past "Maryanne's".
He saw the lighted Circle Cinema sign.
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
In the "Citysides" windows, black and bare,
Collar ups gaze at him with a spectral glare,
"The fanboys are coming!" as they stood aghast
At the thought of arrival of BU's terrible fans.

It was two by the Gasson clock,
When he came to campus after warning the town.
He sensed the annoyance of the flock,
And the victory on the ice in constant freeze,
And he felt the moisture not of a sneeze.
But of the tears from those 2 unslightly girls in Worcester who wore a frown.
America's Team was safe and asleep in bed
Who at Conte would be first to fall,
The team who's season in February is dead,
And Johnny Curry - pierced by a Joe Rooney musket ball.


Despite Conte Forum's rules against bringing in items to taunt BC fans, some BU fans have found new ways to sneak the Beanpot Trophy into the Arena.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the redjerseys from Baghdad U waved their flag and then fled,---
How the Eagles and Superfans owned them one and all,
Each and every time their Terriers fall,
Laughing at the redjerseys as they retreated down the lane,
Then chortling at them in the tourney again
At their jobs at McDonalds and more games down the road,
And the pathetic futures for which their worthless diplomas bode.

So through the night rode Pinhead Revere;
And so through the night went his word of alarm
Heard even by the Hillbillies up north on their farm,---
A word to prepare, and not to fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of 1995,
Through all their history, when their program was alive,
The redjerseys, almost here, with their women so unbecoming,
The people will waken and listen to hear
"The fanboys are coming!, the fanboys are coming!",
And the midnight message of Pinhead Revere.

Collar Up with apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.