Behold! And make straight the ways! Pave the potholes and clear debris from the king's roads! A hero comes marching home!
But another nation's sigil ripples along his flagstaff. Three for four and a run-home grinds between his teeth. The cudgels drip with the attack's profits.
Did the nation forsake you? Did the fields not grow waves of shimmering golden wheat for you? Did the king not call you to the battlefield, select among his most select twenty and five? Did the prince not start you at shortstop down the stretch in 2012?
Oh, Elliot Johnson, the Republic trembles at the anticipation of your continued wrath.