Jumbolicious
Only three yards separate him from the goal line
where if he can get the ball across,
his team will gain two points, and be in a fine
position to hand the other team their second loss
of the yet still young season.
He's called The Beast by his teammates, being
taller, heavier, a mostly-grown bull amongst calves.
His usual position is on the line, right guard, steaming
foward when he hears the call, cutting in halves
two defenders double teaming.
But on this play, this very special play known
as Jumbolicious, he's off the line, now a fullback
who receives the ball, hopefully carrying it to the endzone,
battling enemies determined to crack
his armour, tear him down, leave him prone.
His comrades crouch low, ready to spring to action,
pushing, shoving, opening a hole
for The Beast to crash through; his cleats find traction
on the close-cut grass, and he rolls
toward the white line, seeking satisfaction.
Fingers clutch at his jersey, pulling him
left, pulling him right, but head down,
ball tight to his chest, face grim,
he moves foward, focused on the crown
that will be his.
He is The Beast working Jumbolicious.
This is for my son who plays football. Initially I was hesitant to let him play, but now that he is in his second season and I see the positives that have come from him playing, I see the value of being a part of this sport. Yes, it is somewhat violent, but my son is still the easy-going, gentle giant we've always known. He's found out he's pretty good at this game, and I love the confidence that's grown in him from being good. This confidence has carried over into other parts of his life, and for that I am grateful.
where if he can get the ball across,
his team will gain two points, and be in a fine
position to hand the other team their second loss
of the yet still young season.
He's called The Beast by his teammates, being
taller, heavier, a mostly-grown bull amongst calves.
His usual position is on the line, right guard, steaming
foward when he hears the call, cutting in halves
two defenders double teaming.
But on this play, this very special play known
as Jumbolicious, he's off the line, now a fullback
who receives the ball, hopefully carrying it to the endzone,
battling enemies determined to crack
his armour, tear him down, leave him prone.
His comrades crouch low, ready to spring to action,
pushing, shoving, opening a hole
for The Beast to crash through; his cleats find traction
on the close-cut grass, and he rolls
toward the white line, seeking satisfaction.
Fingers clutch at his jersey, pulling him
left, pulling him right, but head down,
ball tight to his chest, face grim,
he moves foward, focused on the crown
that will be his.
He is The Beast working Jumbolicious.
This is for my son who plays football. Initially I was hesitant to let him play, but now that he is in his second season and I see the positives that have come from him playing, I see the value of being a part of this sport. Yes, it is somewhat violent, but my son is still the easy-going, gentle giant we've always known. He's found out he's pretty good at this game, and I love the confidence that's grown in him from being good. This confidence has carried over into other parts of his life, and for that I am grateful.
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