Gentlemen, please.
We should keep fighting until the last whistle of the last game has sounded. We are not mathematically eliminated. I know our chances of making the playoffs are less than the combined brain weight of Britney Spears and Randy Moss, but until we're out, hope lives.
Did George Washington give up after Martha fed him that bad fish? Did Andy Rooney give up after looking at himself in the mirror? Did Mr. Skip Towne give up after losing movement in his left arm? No. And, by all that's Holy and righteous and good and smells nice, neither should we.
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