Sports
(Verse 1)
I’m the goal that you think you’re gonna score
A little bit of teasing got ya pleading for more (Yeah Yeah)
If you end up a loser no need to be sore (No No Nooo)
Givin’ up on trying to get me to stay
Like it was gonna happen anyway
You’ve run out of dumb lines to say
Well save em’ for a rainy day
I’m the judge and you’re the case
What you’re true intentions are it’s time to investigate
You wanna play hardball then step up to the plate
Cause we both know you’re just trying to get to third base
(Chorus)
Tryna go camping in my spot
With that tent in your shorts
Tryna get your ball in my court
Well you must love games
Cause you tryna play sports
Somebody call the referee
Cause I gotta and I wanna (Wanna) hear that whistle blow
You really think you can handle me
Well we'll just have to wait and see
(Verse 2)
You wanna touchdown so baby go long
Now come on and show me what you got (Got)
It's a foul if you hit it wrong
Can ya get it can ya get it up (Up)
Like a jockey yeah giddy up (Aye!)
Like tennis
Forward We March
By jfarrell
My third day of work was Wembley,
I don’t know how many were there;
Being part of a crowd of several thousand,
It may be normal for some;
I get nervous with just one other person present.
Like the Roman Legion of old,
We marched several paces forward; then stopped.
Several paces forward, then wait for several minutes;
Then forward we march…
The building to our right,
I don’t know if it was flats or hotel;
People looking out of windows,
To watch an army of fans march.
And the one wierdo, naked,
Watching us with binoculars;
Same crazy people live among us.
by Jeph Johnson
On his college football jersey
He wore number 42
As an All-American linebacker
In '97 for ASU
Chasing players down,
Gridiron aflame
To the ground with bruising tackles,
He really loved this game
Then in '98 the Cardinals
Of the NFL
Lined him up at strong safety
And noticed he played well
Passes thrown at others,
He would get in the way
Chasing errant tosses
Whenever they would stray
Through the air with interceptions,
Covering bombs, surprise attacks
When they ran their routes against him,
Players shuddered in their tracks
Number 40 played with passion,
Commitment and intent
Loyalty and devotion,
His world seemed so content
The Arizona desert he called home
And loved to live
Forged a future for his family,
Loving wife and future kids
He possessed more than most could ask for:
A strong chin and stiffer lip
Intelligence and boyish charm,
Athletic skill and leadership
Destined to be a hero,
Hall of Fame or President
A man's man all could relate to
...at least those with good intent
But the attacks of 9-11,
That fateful September day
Inspired him to reconsider
How his legacy'd be portrayed
So with courage and conviction,
Without fanfare or acclaim
He removed his Football helmet,
And with his brother took new aim
Through the cross hairs of a rifle
Towards threats we all perceived
Tracking troops who trained in terror
With few stripes upon their sleeve
Wearing now a soldier's helmet,
A new gridiron aflame
The Afghanistan desert
Would be where his new team would train
Dodging errant tosses
Whenever they would stray
Grenades were not footballs
And war was not a game
Through the air this time with missiles,
And more surprise attacks
Obeying all his orders
There was no turning back
Not for Patrick Daniel Tillman,
He had made his oath to fight!
Not for God or praise or accolades,
But for what he saw was right
Pat and Kevin served with honor
And with their tour complete
Saw there mission wasn't over,
So they refused to retreat
A second tour of duty,
Despite doubting the war
Was undertaken by
The Tillman brothers underscored!
Orders now contradicted,
They were caught on steep terrain
This battlefield fiasco
Became a military melee
On the Pakistan border
His unit split twofold
Still obeying orders,
Still doing what he was told
He went on ahead
Despite the easy target on his chest
"How dare he doubt in his diary
This war had become a mess?"
"And this crap about there not being
A God to lead our fight?"
"Wasn't Jesus mad at Mohammed
The whole reason for this plight?"
"And this Iraqi oil
Is America's right to claim"
"Whatever the reason, buddy,
You've no right to place the blame!"
So for enemies and allies
He stood upon that grassless knoll
An atheist not only in harms way
But outside of a foxhole!
"I'm Pat Fucking Tillman" he cried,
But shots rang out instead
For the sins of our whole country
He took three bullets to the head
Sometimes selfless endeavors
To right which one finds wrong
Become deadly reminders
To not always play along
We must voice with power our opinions
With the utmost urgency
And hold to our convictions
Amidst adversity
For Pat Tillman's not in Heaven,
He's somewhere more unique
He is in all our hearts and actions
Through every word we speak
A man with all to live for,
Caught in an illegal war's drama
We may never know who pulled the trigger,
But it wasn't Saddam or Osama
"Friendly fire" is what they called it,
Meaning it was one of us
When the highest rank in your chain of command
Is someone you can't trust
It becomes rather obvious
Who really is at fault
But I'll leave that up to everyone
Else to try to figure out
The first time they talked,
Something feels different.
The first time they met,
Everything feels right.
She ran,
Hugged and kissed him tight
Like there's no tomorrow.
He ran,
Hugged and kissed her tight
Like she was slipping away.
He was her football superstar
She was his precious gem.
Together, they fell in love
Unconditionally and passionately.
There on that shelf, next to my football photos, my ball. Not just any ball, silver and red, small, slightly torn, but always my favorite. After all these years, I still remember that moment in which they said my name and I standed up to go and pick it up. A sea of emotions in me, all for a ball, one silver and red ball. Such an important game like that, is rewarded with medals, trophies, but that ball, oh, that ball is worth more than that. Few times I have used it, rarely has known the air when thrown. It has come with me to all kinds of places. I cannot go anywhere without it. Why am I so attached to it? Why not treat him like an ordinary ball? As much as I cling to these questions, and try to change it, I cannot. That is because it defines me, defines my work and dedication, all the effort I put in that season, and in that particular game. Silver and red colors that I will never forget, colors that will stay with me forever. The ball silver and red, the only possetion that I would not share. That object which would be the first I will take out in case of a fire. Why am I so attached to it? Why not treat him like an ordinary ball? I am attached to that ball, because that ball is me. I do not treat it like an ordinary because it is not an ordinary ball. This ball has a history, a number, a team, and many feelings. This ball can be silver and red, but worth gold.
Ball Boys Done It I confess have to guess how they got in this mess; Did not possess any fines when they did address The public as to problem Patriots had to bare; Failed to fill ball with right amount and enough air. So in despair were found to be fools not fair When sins would share that were hard to bare, By in football exact, proper amount not allot And guess what again as usual they got caught. Why would other people you want to embarrass, By having your balls made out of plaster of Paris And Instead of ball had been kicking the dirt; When you did was painful and sure did hurt. Personally, myself I prefer balls that are soft I love them best because into air can loft Them up and land into a receiver's hand Which is exactly way that I had planned. People in New England now understand; Think when football is cold it will expand Just like to would in your car's spare tire That leads me to believe they are a liar. Game balls are expensive and guaranteed To maintain air they want and will ever need Not requiring any air during the game So ball boys should be receiving the blame. James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran 173 Shadowood Court SE Bolivia, NC 28422 www.poetrysoup.com and www.story-telling-around-the-world.com jthorn5656@gmail.com
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/ball_boys_done_it_635878
My ODE ENTITLED 'VERSUS WATFORD 28% POSESSION'
Greetings Bluebirds how do you do?
Just had to write a poem to you
looks so messy from afar
from heady heights to lowered bar
Malky gone in a haze of texts
hey you obviously know the rest
Then a gamble on a man
with no experience Mr Tan
And now you chose Mr Slade
Personally, come what may
when a local hero called Tony P
would have come if you asked thee
You obviously couldnt work with him
clueless rhetoric he would have binned
He wouldn't stand for meddling at all
with his life of experience and
your 2 months studying football!
I have been monitoring the news
really are some Cardiff Blues
Ok we just won away
but the brand of football is
causing DISMAY
love the letter from the old man
pointing out that Cardiff's brand
of football, more suited to park
really is a comparison; stark
the best football I have recently seen
was the football under Malky
fast flowing, counter attack
and when needed a defence stack
but back to why I did write
not bothered about the shite
quality of football anyway
dont watch the club these days
because I made a decision
at the beginning of the season
that all I would do would read
the write ups of the BBC
and pay specific attention too
possession percentages of the ex blue
cos they should averaged 50%
with Mr Tans squad heaven sent
and until they reach that point
could only mean a disjoint
bad enough under OGS
at times we looked clueless
not seen a Russel Slade team
even on the TV
until they can get 50% possession
score, shut up shop, aint heaven
no leaders on the pitch too
without them we are screwed
one thing about OGS
a kid in a sweet shop no less
but from the glimpses I have seen
some of his buys played decently
and selling our club captain too
OGS had some screws loose
and none are even getting games
to the outsider that's insane
Russell are you picking the team?
Or does your greatfullness
ensure some lies from thee??
Perhaps this is why MR P
was never offered the job you see
principled, from beginning to end
and a genius with a team blend
and championship experience too
cant believe he's still out of work too
would have done a grand job for you
We got the World Cup raging on
All the people that don't like soccer are hopping on
But this bandwagon's almost full
Of people that run with the bulls
To people that eat noodles
'Cause this game has fans all over the world
From Grown up men to little girls
Millions of people watching the field
Looking at players who refuse to yield
Waiting for the score to be revealed.
Forwards and defenders playing hard
Trying not to get a red card
Some act like they've been marred
To try to get others barred
From continuing on in the game
So they can get all of the fame
In the end only one team can win
And all the others get thrown in a bin.
I played a little in high school football and...as a sport I have nothing but praise
At least the way it was played in high school, you know...back in the good old days.
On or off the football field our coach had certain behaviors he’d expect
His main teaching no matter how we did was to treat everyone with respect.
If you knock them down you help them up, if they score, “Great Job” is what you say
Because we learned in football as in life there is a gracious way to play.
I never played past high school (I wasn’t the superstar I thought I would be)
But I still love watching the game today though I’m often appalled at what I see.
Yes, the game is still worth watching that’s a fact I cannot overstate
I do have a problem however with the ways some players celebrate.
It appears in the years since I played football some gamesmanship has passed away
And some of the players have forgotten there’s a respectful way to play.
Players mock and they ridicule and they try to humiliate and shame
It seems to me along the way they’ve forgotten it’s just a game.
If a player makes a tackle it’s not enough that we applaud
He bursts out in the open and acts like he’s a God.
If another scores a touchdown he begins to pound his chest
He runs and jumps and flails and shouts just like a man possessed.
Since when does doing what’s expected cause you to flex, and shake and scream
You’d think they succeeded by themselves instead of as a team.
Certainly there’s a place for celebration in the game of football today
But if my high school coach was watching I know exactly what he’d say.
He’d say, “Players please remember that no matter what ensues
You must show as much dignity when you win as you show those times you lose.”
Football has a grace and beauty that will oftentimes amaze
But when it comes to sportsmanship and honor, I long for the good old days.