(Poet’s note: I used to live for Sundays in football season, just to watch the New York Giants. There were good years. There were bad years. And at night, I would dream in football plays — usually the botched ones. Thankfully, I have grown out of that phase. But I still love the Giants and catch a bit when I can. It’s just not the same.)
I used to dream in football back when I was fan
so that I could redraw the plays the way they should have been played
and not how they came out on the field
It is amazing how invested I could become
from my living room chair, with a beer can in my hand,
and my feet nowhere near the green grass.
And at night, I was the coach,
picking apart the film.
I still watch, but I am not the same;
Now, I wake up at night with worries of my family
or my classroom
or my writing.
The game has changed in ways that I cannot even begin to fathom.
Peace (on the field),