In honor of Ed Hochuli's retirement, I have appointed myself poet laureate of The Irrelevant and penned this poem in his honor
Oh Hochuli! my Hochuli! Our long winded explanation is done,
The onfield mic has weather’d every rack, the new york office has overturned,
The second explanation is done, the whistle I hear, the people all spurned,
While follow eyes the bulging arms, the jog somber yet confident
But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O the flexing biceps
Where on the field my Hochuli lies?
Retired, and left
Oh Hochuli! my Hochuli! Rise up and hear the whistle;
Rise up--For you the challenge flag is thrown--for you Belichik is scowling
For you jeers, and sneers--for you Al Michaels souring
For you Collingsworth calls, that pompous ass, his clattering howling
Here Hochuli! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream on that jumbotron
You’ve retired and left
My Hochuli does not answer, his lips are sealed and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has nothing to explain,
The shield is safe and sound, Papa John is closed and done
From fearful trip the brave commish in his office has a 40 run
Exult O shores, and swing O towels!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the field my Hochuli lies,
Retired, and left.