I mean, look at their power running formation (via @edsbs): it's brimming mansomeness out of every manly orifice, just seven metric tuns of gnarled manliness crushing all forms of football life and ushering the glorious resurrection of real football that nearly blinked out of existence when that tea-sipping moose-dressage-enthusiast dandypants Teddy Roosevelt sissified the game by making muskets and cauldrons of boiling pitch illegal during the run of play. Might as well just slap tutus on the lads and call it "soccer" at that point.
Anyway, this week the gang embarks on some vigorous manhood training in preparation for the big game. The results are predictably mixed.
Ow... my self-esteem.