While it is most unfortunate that our dear fellows have yet to taste the sweet nectar of victory upon the field of battle as summer gives way to autumn, I am of high spirits. The torrid heat that has besieged the mountain in recent months seems to have finally given way to the glorious breeze that beckons the onset of finer conditions. There is not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that the University’s finest will find their hearts buoyed by the transformation, and redouble their efforts in the name of Old Dominion.
Once again, in their infinite wisdom, the athletic administration has sent our football team beyond the borders of our fair Virginia, this time to face the Storrs Agricultural School, an institution founded only at the behest of farmers that found entrance to Yale University to be a bridge they could not traverse, much less lay eyes upon. Their legislators obliged, chartering a school much more fitting to their more modest academic capabilities.
I have always been skeptical of Connecticut’s claim to statehood, and regard it mostly as territory rejected by the far more esteemed state of New York and founded by persons that annoyed the residents of Massachusetts to the point of expulsion, which I might add is quite a remarkable feat. What the state lacks in land area it more than compensates in residents who claim to live somewhere other than where they actually reside.
Gentlemen, I must ask that you do all within your power to lift the spirits of those young men that toil in our institution’s name. I especially wish you to steel the resolve of those students whose task it is to hinder the advancement of the ball by the opposing side, for they have had a trying pair of contests. I do hope with all my heart that we will sing to the glories of the Cavaliers tomorrow evening and toast a victory for many hours in the parlor of Monticello. I have made arrangements to fill our stores with cider for the occasion, and it would distress me greatly if it were to sit idle for want of news of a positive outcome.