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The Apex

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The subtle skills of the game elude me,
Although it gives me great pleasure to report
I’ve almost mastered the tricky, frustrating task
Of putting on my shinguards the right way forward.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 (A typical practice for me:
I mis-hit 90% of my passes.
I miss every tackle.
I don’t control the ball
So much as I get in its way.
Dribbling? Don’t make me laugh.)

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 But one day– August 24th, which happens to be my father’s birthday;
My father who played high school soccer in the 1950s on the field upon which the first controlled nuclear
Reaction had taken place,
Although he claims he got no superpowers from it;
My father who, skipping forward several decades,
Now gives me moral and practical advice,
And tries his honest best to do what’s right;
My father with whom I’ve discussed every subject under the sun,
And enjoyed every moment of it too;
My father who, if he discovers this poem, will laugh and tell me to stick to prose for heaven’s sake (and he’ll be right)–
On August 24th I showed up for practice early,

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 And I sprayed the ball around the field at will
And made brilliant cutting runs
And won every single tackle
And scored nine times in half an hour’s scrimmage,
And my teammates looked at one another and shrugged.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 After the practice of August 24th I did extra windsprints
And then I walked home.
My father was in the living room and he asked me,
“How did your practice go?”

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 And I answered, “Fine.”

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 On August 25th I showed up for practice early,

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 And I mis-hit 90% of my passes
And made foolish and ill-conceived runs
And missed every tackle
And didn’t control the ball so much as got in its way,
And my teammates looked at one another and shrugged.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 After the practice of August 25th I did extra windsprints
And then I walked home.
My father was in the living room and he asked me,
“How did your practice go?”

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 And I answered, “Fine.”

9

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-apex/