Our Story

Once upon a time, in a land near and dear to our hearts, there was a little falcon known throughout the far and wide West Region for its spirit. After two years, the little falcon’s GNAC basketball fascination was in full effect; it was its third year and rather than just looking at their school, the spirited little falcon began to pay attention to all nine other schools too.

The dominoes started falling when a Twitter fight broke out. Through careful analysis, the little falcon concluded that their school would drop an upcoming game and the GNAC would likely be a one-bid league that year.

First, the team dropped the game; a couple of months later, only one bid was procured.

During those two months, the spirited little falcon had started contemplating; the Twitter fight had triggered an urge, a will: the antagonist had suggested a blog. But the little falcon, ever dedicated, knew that their current commitment to their own school was far too great -if a blog were to happen, it would start the following year.

Through the twists and turns of the season the spirited little falcon longed for someone to speak with in its native tongue, but no one was willing. Classmates ignored, profs rolled their eyes, the men’s basketball team couldn’t be bothered, but then… the Saint Martin’s baseball team faced a rain delay and found themselves captivated by the tiny, spirited creature.

For forty-five minutes, one Saturday morning in March, under the westerly winds and steady drizzle from southern-Idaho skies, the spirited little falcon spoke joyously and knowledgeably, primarily about men’s basketball, to the shocked Saints’ baseball team. Once again: a blog was suggested -begged for, even. The thought made the little falcon grow warm -the spirit of humanity was singing.

That Spring, unexpected triumphs arose: an internship off campus, a graduate program wholly unexpected but very embraced, a random meeting with the journalism department chair. This time it was the journalism head captivated by the little creature’s ability, “You should start a blog,” he encouraged.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

The little falcon that could, maybe.

That Summer, there was a meeting at graduate school: the little falcon’s world was shattered; spite set ablaze, hot anger mixed with devastating sadness. Different terms than a blog would usually be purposefully birthed under, but powerful ones all the same.

I theoretically can, I theoretically can, I theoretically can.

The little falcon started on the project -heart heavy between the old familiar world of darkness, that was loved but also loathed; and the new world full of light, laughter, and potential: after three years, the skies were starting to open up again. But, after three years of darkness -the little falcon had become accustomed to it; what were these fluffy white puffs of praise? What was this glowing warmth spreading throughout its breast?

Was it possible the little falcon had been wrong the whole time -there had been starlight at home, long unseen? Nope, turned out to be fireworks; stars were beautiful, untouchable, and unable to burn -the bite of the fireworks seared hot on the little falcon’s wings -home was no longer home. Truth be told, home had never been home.

The spirited little falcon took a deep breath, readied for flight, and flew over to a ship -the ship had been warned about the little falcon, but the warnings turned out to be for naught: there was nothing wrong with the spirited little creature. The spirited little falcon was just that: spirited -full of light, love, and knowledge. With that reassurance, the tiny creature flew home more determined than ever. Now the little falcon was committed to serve the entire conference -bringing joy and a capacious love of division two men’s basketball to all.

And that’s how we got here: The spirited little falcon that could, two seasons down, so far, so good —

I know I can, I know I can, I know I can.

© 2015.

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