Tuesday, January 25, 2011

A poem for the season

Recent conversations with a couple of football-loving girlfriends reminded me of this little ditty. I composed it when I was in junior high, back when the frozen north ruled the NFL - sort of like this year. What could have been more old school than seeing the Packers, Bears, Steelers, and Jets vying for the Super Bowl this year? I always got a vicious little thrill, seeing southern teams play up north, in falling snow, or in single-digit temps. Namby pambies. You should try living up north ALL THE TIME.
Ahem. Anyway, this is the only thing I ever wrote that I can recite in its entirety. If you would like to enjoy it for yourself, sing it to the tune of Jingle Bells.

Football games! Football games!
Frolics in the snow
Sitting on a frozen bench
It's just thirteen belo-ow
Pass received? Pass received?
We will never know
For the guy who made the catch
Is buried in the snow!
Dashing through snow
A wishbone T in play--  
There's faith though we're behind 
Nineteen to three today
Our team just can' t fit in
The place where we now play
You see, we are from Florida
And playing in Green Bay!
(repeat chorus with gusto)

(Disclaimers: Yes, I know nineteen is an uncommon score, and I know Miami didn't run the wishbone, and they certainly didn't run it across divisions against the Packers. But it's a poem, dammit, and these words scanned, and that's the important thing.)
(P.S. Go Steelers!)


Bernie said...

Excellent writing Cheryl. Of course with the increased use of domed stadia, even some of the old timey teams have now gone soft in the elements.

Go Pittsburgh!

Aser said...

I totally agree with the sense of smack satisfaction in seeing southern teams compete in icy conditions.

Love the poem, hope to sing it next year in a public venue.