Football...the Devil's Own Sport
Football...What it has done to me...yet was it not a blessing in disguise?
Football, the great and brutish of sports,
of the newest fond century's man,
that old and timeless massacre,
so watched by the dedicated fan.
A display of both the powerful and clever,
that are to go hand in hand,
the one, whose winning goal,
is in crushing the others, if you can.
Eleven men, whose one thought,
as a team, to bash and thrash,
Fought by ten, on the opposing defense,
their opportunities to crash.
The bravest fight in all their might,
despite bruises and the sprains,
As the odd shaped pig skin lies,
never a recipient of any such pains.
What delights are in these fights,
and in the crushing of the helmeted ones,
The colorful jerseys, all to reflect,
the allegiances of each, as he runs.
To kick and throw the leather ball,
and down the imp, with every fall,
In trying to make a six point score,
to pass a line, by quarterback's call.
The gaunt and strong, in blows exchanged,
within every four-played down,
The grunts and strains of every game,
the injuries, in numbers, to abound,
What driving force, behind this massacre,
of the human figures out there,
When all is over and the score tallied up,
Every soul leaves, without a care.
Until the next great Roman affair, with gladiators,
amid the cheering of the crowd,
The soar arms and leg of the participants all beg,
in pain, with cries, that are aloud.
In quests for fame, this in every game,
the heroes of today, do all display no fear,
Despite the harsh injuries of each, the seduction,
by it all, seems to be so very clear.
Football, you great old impersonator,
you're maligning in a defining, of your hold,
Why must you pose as the mark of the brave,
in all of your stories, to be told?
Why do we all behave so child like,
acting as children, in our cheering so wild like,
In declaring our devotion in your game of toil,
never your name, in its fame, to despoil?
@@@@@ FOOTBALL @@@@@
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