by Tim Chiu
About how frustrating sports can be and a way out - a poem.
Sports precision's a real trick.
Nothing we try seems to click
We become enraged and sick...
With every pounce, we seek a prize
But with tons of pizzazz, we realize
Maybe playing's not so wise
Gasping pleas and expletive cries.
But sometimes efforts must take hold
Make it work, don't be too bold
Ability is framed, controlled
You'll sustain a heart of gold.
Play begins, wind in our sax
First is what the player lacks
Posture, timing, earn your stacks
Caring how the place reacts.
Born to seek, let them know
Uniquely rivaled, blow by blow
Certainties, they come and go
But destinies reap what they sow.