Forty three yards from the end-zone
Currently in the fourth down
Q.B.'s now done with all his throwin'
The cumulative score, now tied
Little under two minutes in its final quarter
All routine calls were substantially tried
The intimidating goal posts remain firm at a distance
Just one field goal to win this game
Ignore the displacement of the visitor's resistance
We've got home field advantage after all,
Yet the fans have become fearfully silent
"Let's win this" someone finally routinely calls
Time for Patrick to be ushered in,
He has but one acquired skill,
To kick the dirty little pigskin!
A cucumber cool stroll towards the line o' scrimmage
The objective, get it over the heads of the defending team
Such a distinct composite striking image
He looks and points towards the end zone
The place holder meticulously restrains the ball
An essential alliance now ultimately sewn
As the stadium's boundless enthusiasm analyses
Patrick kicks the ball……..
But shamefully misses!
Perhaps one could blame the wind,
Or the damn overhead lights from atop o' the arena
Actual jeering from the stand was haughtily sent
Poor Patrick, just shaking his disappointed head
So much riding on this scrawny man's shoulders
Redemption if it goes into overtime instead
And so, he sits back down, enjoys some Gatorade
His appointed time might come up once again
After all, only he's the scholar of a one knack trade,
So, he remains nonchalant and carefree
They'll probably need him out again
Thus, Patrick will just patiently wait and see.
Patrick. We have a number of him in real life. Great piece, Rebb. Football mixed and kicked with philosophy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
superb to read; just love it