EPTAre being 6-pooled and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when Aligulac doubts you,
But make allowance for its doubting too;
If you can cheese and not be beat by cheesing,
Or survive when your mothership dies,
If you can feel, and not give way to feeling,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can split - and not make storms your master;
If you can harass - and not make drops your game;
If you can meet with MKP and Boxer
And treat the young impostor just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted on Twitter to make a Trap for fools,
Or watch the tanks you put your gas to, broken,
And stoop and fix 'em up with SCV tools:
If you can make one heap of all your banelings
And hurl them at the deathball of the Toss,
And lose, and do it all again with only slow lings
And still contain your rage about your loss;
If you can force an immortal's every sinew
To serve your team long after shields are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Void which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with fans and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Flash - nor lose the common touch,
if neither mines nor muta flocks can hurt you,
If all Zergs count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the Blizzard minute
With sixty seconds' worth of mining done,
Yours is the sector and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Pro, my son!
(Rudyard Kipling's original, 1895)
