Drew Oehler ’09 - Some say there is a bitter sweetness to every desire.  I want to eat that steak.  I want to be on that ride.  I want to play that game.  Once you’re on that ride, or eating that steak, or playing that game, it’s great.  But eventually, you’ve satisfied your desire for steak, and hand in hand with that satisfaction is a quenching of that desire, a finality that defies your initial desire for that event.  “Okay, that ride was great, but now I’m nauseous.”  People make the same assumption about football.  They’re all wrong.  Wabash football is unique.  Every one of us, as seniors, is loving the time we have left as contributors to the Wabash Football family and tradition, an experience we will never forget for the rest of our lives.  After it’s all done though, and the NCAA tells us we can’t play anymore, I won’t be nauseous, nor will I be full, or any other word that means, could mean, or should mean satisfied.   And it won’t be the performances I miss, of course I’ll still have that sinking feeling in my stomach every Saturday next fall, but more than that will be the people.  At Wabash, we build performance, strength, and speed, but on top of all of those things we build relationships.  So more than that gut-wrenching feeling on Saturdays when I won’t be able to show off my leg will be a heart-wrenching feeling next august on reporting day when I won’t be able to hear about Tony’s new faux hawk, DMann’s red eyes, or even Gangloff’s newest under armor purchase.  Its these unquenchable relationships that pull Wabash through games, because in the 4^th quarter or the last 40 yard sprint, and you can’t pick yourself up, you know the Wally next to you already has his hand out.  Wabash Always Fights.