Our Fractured Fight Song

{To the Tune of the Notre Dame Fight Song}

Bassett is brave and Bassett is bold.
Bassett's a team that no team can hold.
When we fight we fight to win,
'cuz Bassett, you know, just won't give in.
When the last play is run through with ease,
Just for the fans of Bassett to please,
We will sing with all our might
The song of maroon and white ... fight, fight, fight! ...
{repeat ad nauseum}

As all my fellow near-northeast-side El Pasoans will recognize, these are the immortal lyrics to the fight song of Bassett Junior High, unless of course they've changed since 1965 (or more likely -- the official fight song is now sung only in Spanish). Bassett (that school next to the quarry -- McMillan's Quarry, to be precise) is a feeder school for Austin High and is itself fed by Crockett, Rusk and Travis. As a school, Bassett rocked! ... literally. When the quarry would set off a charge and boulders would shower down from the 400-foot cliff face (moving the limestone wall back a few more feet) our classroom windows would rattle and we'd actually feel the seismic vibration through our school desks.

No doubt you're asking yourself, "So what dynamite mascot would earth-shattering Bassett Junior High School choose?" Well, smack yourself on the forehead for missing the obvious ... we were the Bassett "Hounds". That's right, Bassett Hounds! You know -- those docile, lethargic sawed-off Blood Hounds, who (with ears so long and legs so short) are in constant danger of treading on themselves. So given such an "awesome" mascot, is there any wonder we smart-ass seventh-graders found cause to poke fun at Bassett's ferocity as a football powerhouse?

Thus it came to be, as the rest of Mrs Van Slyke's music class dutifully stood and gustily sang of the Bassett Hounds' invincibility, we (a handful of my buddies and I) joined in with a slightly more realistic song of this squat dog's prowess:

Bassett is bold and Bassett is brave.
Bassett's a team that no team can save.
When we fight we fight to win,
But somehow we end up giving in.
When the last play is fumbled with ease,
That's when the coach will fall to his knees.
Then we'll cheer and drink our beer
For the flee-bitten Bassett Hounds ... Bite, bite, bite! ...

Mrs Van Slyke was not amused.