There once was a comedy movie
About a guy who loved kids, and for proof he
Dressed up like a girl
And changed some kid’s world
And everyone said that it’s groovy.
Tag Archives: Sports
Now THIS Is Entertainment
Instead of the Olympics
What if we just had a day
Where everyone from every sport
Would simultaneously play
And the discusses and javelins
And basketballs and gymnasts
Would fly around the hockey rink
For both speed and long distance.
They should have a draft like those
We had in middle school
And we’d finally find out whose
Sport is the most least cool.
The only thing to ruin
This remarkable event
And make the people who showed up
Regret the cash they spent
Is if the Olympic commissioners
(Or whatever they call those fools)
Has the audacity to tell us
That this game will have “rules”.
Filed under Poems
The NBA Breathes A Sigh Of Relief…
One upside of trans acceptance
Is that in ten years women’s sports
Will probably make a profit
Now that men are on the courts.
Filed under Poems
For When You Like Basketball But You Like Watching White People Play It For Some Reason
March is the month where on TV
Are a bunch of teenage guys
Who compete to hold onto their balls
With other men of unusual size.
The best at making balls go swish
Will win. Others suffer sadness,
And that is why they call this event
By the appropriate name, March Madness.
Filed under Poems
Thursday Night Football
There once were some Illinois Bears
Who played the ex-redskins by O’hare.
They punted and punted
And punted and punted
And who the heck actually cares?
Filed under Poems
The 11.5th Man
Today I watched a once great team
Catch on fire, but die as steam,
Lead on offense by a bust
Who makes us say “In Smith We Trust.”
On the flip side now I know
How Michael Jackson puts on a show.
Do we suck? Yeah, probably!
But I still love the hawks, so whee!
Filed under Poems
This Is Why God Chose Me To Have A Poet’s Salary
If I had a billion dollars
I’d buy a sports franchise
And make a special policy
To only hire guys
With super inappropriate surnames
Like Hitler, Kuntz, White-Powers,
And listen to the commentators
Say their names for hours…
Filed under Poems
The Most Romantic Poem Ever That No Woman Will Understand
When my team is 8 and 6
And my fantasy QB gets sick
You’re the RB1 I start
And throw to when the ground is slick.
You’re the treadmill at the gym
In front of the TV
Where I can watch the Yankees lose
With nobody in front of me.
You’re someone I never thought
Was real, but here you are!
Like a white guy who hates frisbee sports
And never tried to learn guitar.
When I hold your hand I feel
Like I am good at math,
And if you asked me nicely
I might even take a bath.
I think you’re pretty naked
Or in a muumuu, though
I doubt there is a clothing item
That could dull your glow.
I would window shop with you
On our anniversary,
And when you sleep, on the toilet’s edge
I aim so you don’t hear me pee.
You smell like guacamole
And when you hold me tight
I forget to pull my belly in
And I know the world’s alright.
Filed under Poems
Daddy Is The Child, While The Daddy Is Childish
If I were a professional athlete
Who married a supermodel
And knew my progeny’s eventual genes
Would be cranking out talent full-throttle
I think I would name my son “Daddy”
Just to see the look on some faces
Whenever my son is revealed as the one
Who wins all the games and the races.
“Oh yes, Daddy’s enormous”
All the commentators would say
“And Daddy’s been known to dominate
“Everybody who stands in his way.”
Let’s say Daddy learned to play hockey…
I think that would sound pretty slick:
“Daddy comes quickly towards the goal!
“I love how he handles his stick!”
Daddy could master the breast stroke,
Or hook up with a tight end,
Dribble his ball for a lay-in
Or illegally use his hands “to defend.”
Yes, my athletic son Daddy
Would make even golf fun to watch…
But alas, God made me a poet
And no athlete shall be conceived by my crotch.
Filed under Poems
Tennis: 15, Baseball: Love (Football 6 +1 or +2)
The people writing the baseball rulebook
Really wrote down things like:
“When you throw a ball and it isn’t a ball
But it doesn’t get hit it’s a strike.”
But the people who wrote the tennis book
Just smiled, or so says the lore,
When they revealed their brand new way
To calculate the score.
Filed under Poems
