When you’re young, people ask
“What do you want to be
“When you grow up,” and today
I found my answer (finally)!
I want to be the guy whose job’s
To be the obscure-stats fairy
And Google crap that nobody knows
And tell the guys doing commentary
So when the score is 12-8
In a game involving someone named “Lou”
Because of me you’ll know that hasn’t happened
Since 1962!
Filed under Poems
Gray steam rises from the sod
Obscuring the outlines
Of eleven men who would be God
If their teammates become so first.
The sky is darkness no one sees
Behind the lightning wall.
The crowd is warm despite the breeze
And bravado shields a heart’s true thirst.
A coin is flipped, a ball is thrown,
And bodies slowly shatter,
A ring is forever. A broken bone?
A pittance to the undying.
And so they fight, part man, part boy
So does decay commence.
They’ll either bottle tears of joy.
Or else just end up crying.
Here we see the warriors die,
Although they call it play,
Our voice is one great battle cry
To lend the few our will.
No longer are our swords so deft,
But fantasy’s alive.
Long ago the dragons left,
But here there’s magic still.
Filed under Poems
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
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
I want to see a sport
Where forty normal guys
Cooperate athletically
To share a worthy prize.
No one would hit each other.
No feelings would be hurt.
They’d go home with clean jerseys
And their hands devoid of dirt.
No penalties are needed
For good sportsmanship prevails
And from such competition
Comes a host of happy tales.
Such sports would be refreshing
And a lovely change of pace
But for now I’ll stick with boxing
‘Cause I love some hand-to-face!
Filed under Poems
I realize this day is special
For a contest will take place
In which genetically superior constituents
Will seek, in scoring, to outpace
Their counterparts in opposition
Within a time allotted,
Thus justifying the fiduciary endowments
With which said constituents are besotted.
I hope that in future contests
Of similar athletic variety
That your subgroup of physically-fit object-movers
May prove worthy of your them-focused piety.
In fact, I would extend my well wishes
That your team may excel in perpetuity
Until their superior members inevitably decay
And we may correct our lost-time incongruity.
Filed under Poems
