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WITNESS: OL’ BALLERS
WITNESS: OL’ BALLERS
by
Gilbert Richards |
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Sparkling darts were they once—cunning
condors who devoured the hardwood.
This noon , some forty years later. They pace
in puffs , wobble in pursuit. Limp through layups;
toss rim shots. Hungry
for rest, they gobble the bench.
Dull needles they were now. Cruel mercies
sculpted on bald spots , released on wrinkles, midriffs
and flab. Against nature they grapple;
against gravity they shuffle, bumble and scuffle.
With gloss gone, no glory.
Why do I rail against these comical combatants?
My rivals are they , my peers. Am I jealous
of their zeal? Their pride in the contest ?
Truths do not dissuade them . They make
no excuses for their groans, winces , and slumps.
And never question their demise.
Once I soared , a proud predator with a red-dot
jumper. A fox on the wing, a bear
on the boards , a gorilla in the paint .
Now I hobble in the stands and spew epithets.
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--Submitted by GRichards01 on 2013-05-23.
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