His head was huge, his brain small, he was never accepted by those
big and tall. His name was dumb, and so was he, a successful life was
never meant to be. His face adorned so many a shirt, adults hated
him the little squirt. Kids came from far and round, just to grab
him and push him down. Ten plus years of toil and trouble, until 1997
when he was on the bubble. They convened and they talked, they
cringed over his cocky walk. It was time to go, said the masses, at
least from the clothes and from the glasses. They paid big bucks for
drawings and submittals, no way PeeDee could expect an acquittal.
Dejected and depressed went PeeDee to games, all the while knowing
his likeness was lame. They replaced him with a man, a true
buccaneer, PeeDee bringing up the ugly rear. No more gloves, no more
boots, no more PeeDee on which to poot. Embarrassed is he, now just a
babysitter to children aged three. Thanks for the memories, they were
great, except when you ran from that wolf at State. There is one
thing for certain, we all must know, manhood is not questioned of our
new logo. So is life, we all must go, my ode to PeeDee, his death, oh
so slow. May plastic basketballs rain on him like pennies from
heaven.
 
     Submitted by Randy Mizelle