Dear Losers,

You have made the mistake of underestimating Riverside. You lost to us, not because of our brilliance, which we have, but with your ineptitude, which you have.

It is possible that you will tell yourself the lies that losers use to make themselves feel better: "We can use this as a moral victory." "We can take this and make it a learning experience." "Don't believe we lost to them, we just ran out of time." "Maybe this is wrist slashing time."

You try again, you fail again, your life is still miserable.

I'm sure there are many who are on their knees praying to their gods, asking what sins they have done. You are wondering what you have to promise or sacrifice in order to remove this blot from your soul. Dress it however you may, feather it, daub it with gold, huzza it, and sing swaggering songs about it, this is defeat, and you are the ones on the receiving end of this event.

You are common men and we are uncommon heroes. Your team trying to beat Riverside is like a whore trying to screw to regain her virginity.

Losing is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. We have seen your women. The worst part is that there is no way that any of these womenfolk associated with you genetic dead ends will want to waste time possibly reproducing more dysfunctional organisms. You might as well try so selling whatever they have left of your manhood over the internet. I'm sure that someone has some spare change and will purchase it as a white elephant gift for the Christmas holidays.

You sweat, you bleed, and the trophy is ours. A game against you we view as a warm day of harvest. The meek may inherit the earth ...after we're done with it.

I do wish to thank you, for without you there would be no victory.

Remember, these games are not life or death because you are still here reading this.

In deepest sorrow and joy,
The Trophy Winners called Riverside