FATHER! What have they done to you, my beautiful anatine papa?? You have been missing for so long -- the police had told us to give up hope, but I refused -- and then I got that phone call, instructing me to be at this location if I ever wanted to see your face again.

After so many years and so many questions, I look upon your cold, metallic body, and I feel no closure. No sense of peace. There are only more answers that elude me. Who did this to you, father? Was this the work of loathsome Stanford scientists, frustrated that all their research and venture capital could not yield a victory against mighty Oregon, their nerdly love of Star Wars inspiring this metallic tomb?

Or was this heinous act perpetrated by those nouveau riche monsters at Under Armour? They have always hated us for our success, craved what we have while their chosen team cannot even beat Indiana. Oh, father, they have made you as slow as that hated terrapin and as ugly as a Maryland alternate uniform. I swear to you, I will not rest a day until I have brought justice to your name!

PERCHED UPON MY MOTORCYCLE, I WILL BECOME THE VERY SPECTER OF DEATH. NEITHER LAWMAN NOR CRIMINAL SHALL STOP ME ON THIS CRUSADE; MINE WILL BE THE VENGEANCE OF A THOUSAND SONS WHO HAVE LOST A THOUSAND FATHERS. AND WHEN I FIND THE MAN WHO DID THIS, HE WILL BE GIVEN NO MERCY. NO ABSOLUTION. HIS SOUL IS A FLAME OF PURE EVIL AND MALICE, AND I WILL SNUFF HIM OUT LIKE A RIGHTEOUS GUST OF WIND FROM HEAVEN ITSELF.

Unless it's Gary Patterson. That dude's freaking immortal.