I could make excuses all day: “I’d had a long day”; “You do that stuff all the time”; “You had home court advantage”. But [having just enumerated them] I won’t. No excuses. I lost. Fair and square.
But I’m not quitting, Wildcat. I want a rematch. I want Round 2 of our dance off, and I want it soon. Mascot vs. Man is not over!
You think you’re so cool with your “flexibility”, your “athleticism”, your “dance skills”, and your “talent”. Well, I’m cool, too. Because while you’ve got those things, I’ve got… well, I’m cool, too.
You made me look like an idiot out there, but I’ll turn the tables soon enough. If you shuffle left, I’ll shuffle left. If you lean right, so will I. But I’ll do it with more sweat and more tears. As the old song says, “Anything you can do, I can do sort-of.”
You’re gonna perform a retro 70’s style spin move into a full split? Then I’ll do it too. And if [when] I have to go to the hospital with an inoperable groin injury, I’ll have no regrets. I’m leaving nothing on the table this time. Not my moves and not my pride.
To be honest, Wildcat, I don’t know why they liked you so much more than me. I don’t know why they found me creepy, disturbing, and pathetic. I don’t know why they laughed at me and pitied me at the same time. Couldn’t they see how hard I was trying? Couldn’t they see that with every gasp and flail, I was exhibiting a dangerously pathetic amount of effort?
Or maybe that’s just it. You make this look effortless. You’re a proud cat. And I’m just a sad man. It’s Mascot vs. Man. It’s apples and oranges. We’re not even on the same field. You know, on second thought, no more rematches. You’re simply too much.
P.S. What’s the greatest performance you’ve ever witnessed?