o.g. abc
¶ 1
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An own goal ventured, is nothing gained
But to the miscreant, an expression pained
Cut to the bench, and what do we see
Distress in abundance, not an hint of glee
Ever the pragmatist, coach encourages and cajoles
Feigning compassion, for whom the bell tolls
Garrulous spectators, however, vent their spleen
Heroic in their devotion, but now sounding mean
Ignoring the pressure, the offender settles
Jeering chants, sting like nettles
Keeping calm, not an easy task
Learning dolefully, to assume a mask
Mistrust spreads, from terrace to team
Not a single pass, so he waits to redeem
Opportunity knocks, a gifted chance
Perfectly positioned, after rare advance
Quietly stealing, toward goal
Running with cunning, in control
Shooting on sight, meant to bring reward
Troublesome footing, twisting untoward
Under pressure already, it sure didn’t help
Verification later, re the snap and the yelp
Watering eyes, but there’s no rain
X-ray results, give credence to the pain
Yelling in anguish, exits to muted applause
Zealous performance, but he’d failed the cause
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