Seamus the Shy

There once was a young boy named Seamus the Shy
Who was timid and quiet, though no one knew why.
He knew no greater pleasure than the shade of a tree,
And a favourite book, of pirates at sea
As they foraged for treasures on islands unknown,
They entranced little Seamus, in a world all his own.

For hours upon hours, Seamus sat in that shade,
And read book after book, but his folks were afraid
That he wouldn't grow up right if he didn't make friends,
So they said to each other, "This nonsense must end!"
So they signed their son up for the school soccer team,
Though Seamus got angry, and whined, fussed, and screamed.

The next afternoon, at the sound of the bell,
Was the first soccer practice, and it didn't go well.
The black-and-white ball would fly every which way,
And poor Seamus, as goalie, had to keep it at bay!
The ball was a menace, a monster, a fright,
As it sped through the air, it caused quite a plight,

For it terrified Seamus, so he'd jump from its path
And be forced to endure his teammates' verbal wrath;
'Cause the other kids teased him, and hooted, and jeered,
For they didn't understand what Seamus feared.
So as ball after ball sailed right over his head,
The kids would start teasing, much to Seamus' dread;

"Seamus, you dummy!"; they'd yell in digust,
"You're playing goaltender, so goal-tend you must!"
But the ball glared at Seamus, with its blood-scarlet eyes,
And its yellowish fangs, so he couldn't surmise
What was fun about soccer, what made it a game
For he was afraid that he'd somehow get maimed,
That the big, ugly ball would bite off his head,
So he'd not try to stop it, he'd avoid it instead!

Seamus went home that night, told his fears to his dad,
Who replied to his son, "You sound pretty mad,
At the children who tease you, and frighten you so,
But there's one simple thing that you must do, you know,
And that is to harness that anger right back
At those kids, as a shield from their verbal attack."

So the very next day, when the practice bell rang,
Seamus ran to the field, and into action he sprang,
He stopped all the balls, he kicked and he caught,
And flew through the air, with nary a thought,
As he heeded his father's sage words of advice,
His teammates changed their tunes, and many thought twice
Before teasing Seamus, for he was now the star
In that short space of time, he'd come ever so far!

Then the Saturday came when they played their first game,
And the boys who'd teased Seamus, the very exact same,
Now hailed him as a hero, and called him "The Wall,"
For not one single ball could get past him at all!

As the boys jogged the warm-up, and lined up to play,
Seamus heard from the sidelines, not so far away,
The voice of a father, haranguing his son,
Who did not look at all like he was having fun!
"If you win," said the father, "We'll go for ice cream,
But lose, and I'll wallop your tail 'till you scream!

For my life and achievements haven't satisfied me,
So now I can act like a total banshee!
I can scream, I can curse, I can throw tantrums too,
For my whole mental state is dependent on YOU!
Win the game, and I'll love you, lose the game, and I won't,
And why are you crying? Don't you know REAL men don't
Ever show their emotions, only wussies do that!
Now show Daddy your stuff, get out there now, scat!"

The boy was now tearful, but bright-faced with shame,
And he had no desire to partake in the game.
Seamus stepped out of line, went and talked to the boy,
Said, "I used to be scared too, but now I'm annoyed
That your dad would be so mean and evil to you,
I don't want to play soccer and see you go through
That emotional torture, let's go play by ourselves,
And our cleats and shin guards, we can forever shelve!"

The boy looked at Seamus, broke into a grin,
And replied with conviction, "Sure, Seamus, I'm in!"
The boys walked off the field, with no backward glance,
Though their teams were both mad that they'd ruined their chance
To finish the game, but the boys didn't care,
They decided that day, right then and right there,
That they'd never have fun at others' expense,
And the boy's evil dad was altogether too tense,
Too hung up on winning, too petty and small,
'Bout a children's game played with a black-and-white ball.

As for Seamus' parents? They were upset at first,
But not so much so that they looked fit to burst,
For their goal all along was for Seamus to make friends,
And, weirdly or not, he'd accomplished that end.
And from that fine day onward, the two boys stayed together,
Since that day on the field, they became friends forever.

So, the moral today, my impressionable friends?
Sometimes, the means isn't justified by the ends.
On the playground, at school, or when you grow and start work,
Don't ever let winning turn you into a jerk.