Louis Parr

Rookie - 11 Points (London)

This Is It - Poem by Louis Parr

It is the day, the first Sunday of July,
I have reached my goal; I have reached my high,
I win the toss and choose to serve first,
I challenge a call, it is reversed,
I am serving well, but so is he,
I cannot break; the score is three-three,
I remain stern and hold my serve,
I possess that extra bit of verve,
I win the tie-break, the crowd are ecstatic,
I still stay focused, I remain phlegmatic,
I won the first, now time for set two,
I break him early, a smile breaks through,
I am ready for this, my tennis is faultless,
I have to hold my serve; I have to play cautious,
I am five-four up, time to make it two-love,
I begin to feel gifted, like a gift from above,
I win six-four, now time for set three,
I start to get complacent and he breaks me early,
I am three-love down; I might let this one go,
I shouldn't say that, did Becker or McEnroe,
I lose the set, I lose it easily,
I can't afford to show any leniency,
I have to fight back; time to win three-one,
I look into the crowd and see my wife and son,
I start the set well but the scores are level,
I know that I'll have to do something special,
I remind myself of the first set we played,
I remember the type of tennis I displayed,
I know that I'm going to have to do that again,
I know that this is now and that was then,
I fight hard but we have another tie-break,
I know if there's a chance, I will have to take,
I play the same as last time, but his form has been amended,
I have a feeling that the match time is going to be extended,
I lose the tie-break and the scores are now tied,
I would prefer to be in his shoes rather than mine,
I am on the down; he is on the rise,
I shall have to give the first set a reprise,
I start the set the same as previously,
I am remaining strong but so is he,
I feel like I've done this already, it's like déjá vu,
I cannot have though, for this is my debut,
I find my form again, at last I hear the crowd cheer,
I finally break him, my path is now clear,
I have to win one more game, that is all, one more surge,
I feel a pain in my shoulder, not now! One more serve,
I have done it! My dream has come true,
I drop to my knees and look around at Centre Court, what a view!
I finally raise my hands, in them the Gilt Cup,
Then I realise, time to wake up.

Topic(s) of this poem: sport

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 26, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, December 30, 2014

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