Question about Andy at this point in his career.

[fredtoast]

Small men dream big
and bray at the gods
when Fate shits in their face.

Small men think big.
Think themselves so special as to demand a championship
they do nothing to earn.

Small men talk big.
Vainglorious as the teats of a rodent
adorned in jewels and silken toggery.

And when the scarlet tressed warrior strides onto the field
where big men battle,
sacrifice their bodies,
and endure trials unknown to the hoi polloi,
the small men perch on the edge of their seats
to bleat and bemoan the impending demise.

But crouching deep in a still, dark corner of their mind
clutching knees to chest 
and nervously chewing lower lip
the true soul softly prays.  .  .  

"Go get 'em Andy."