If you want the very best
Be a fan of the New York Jets.
That rhyme didn’t work quite right
And neither do they.
If you want the very best
Be a fan of the New York Jets.
That rhyme didn’t work quite right
And neither do they.
Filed under Poems
The top one-percent of earners
Make $585 K.
The minimum NFL salary
Is $615,000 today.
These 0.95-percenters
Complain about being oppressed
And wonder why their unemployed fans
Are anything less than impressed.
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the week before football
And all through the States
Everyone outside Boston
Came to terms with their fates.
So many Don’taes,
Tyrones, and Lamars
Checked if Wendy’s needed
Someone who could lift cars.
Meanwhile those lucky
To remain on their teams
Prayed the ACL gods
Would not ruin their dreams.
The fans were all cozy
Wrapped up on their couches
While the TV says who’ll be
The sleepers and slouches.
And a tenth of a billion
Mostly female folks
Didn’t see the appeal
Of tackling blokes,
Yet still two-hundred-million
Pulled on overpriced shirts
With the last name of someone
Whose whole body hurts.
They’ll sit back to watch
As the combat begins.
They’ll be happy as long
As their animal wins.
Filed under Poems
At first today my heart was pained
By knowing every team
In the NFL I cared about
This year had lost their dream.
Then my brain switched on a light
And I did realize
Two teams I strongly dislike
Have to get hit by guys twice my size,
That excellence and victory
Brought them 4 weeks of extra pain
For a 50/50 shot
At a trophy they might gain.
And somewhere betwixt my brain and heart
I realized how futile are rings and crowns
And found new admiration
For the 49ers and the Browns.
I kinda hope the NFL
Display the stubborness of men
And they keep sitting for the anthem
Because I figure then
People will start watching hockey
And I can talk about sports again.
Filed under Poems
I say you can kneel if you wanna
Before you play behind the line,
But if your political stance
Draws an unpopular glance
Then you’ll be on no team of mine!
Filed under Poems
So I hear there’s a hurricane
Headed for Florida.
Under most circumstances
That’s a thing I’d abhor-ida
But it’s postponed the game
‘Tween the Dolphins and Rays
So my fantasy matchup is easier
Which deserves a few “yays.”
Filed under Poems
This month we will experience
The NFL’s preseason
In which millionaires hit each other
Deapite the lack of any reason,
And we the fans will cheer
To kick our team’s rival’s posterior
Because we can’t play ourselves
Since we’re genetically inferior.
We’ll sit and eat and fart a bit
And somehow manage to sweat.
At the end half of us will sob
While half say “best preseason yet!”
Then we picture our team’s victory
And order larger pants
With the logo of some other team
That actually has a chance.
Filed under Poems
Some sports
Are played on courts
Others on fields or rinks.
Some play on pitches,
But I won’t rhyme with that.
(The reason is obvious, methinks).
Some balls are small
And don’t bounce at all
Others are not even spherical.
Some play with pucks,
‘Specially those Canucks.
This stuff’s proven, widely known, and empirical.
When you win, it’s a joy,
Perhaps more if you’re a boy,
But that debate’s for another occasion.
So yippee for sports
And those athletic sorts.
As for me, I’ll just solve this equation.
Filed under Poems