by Steve Joos
what child athletes think while playing, with a Women's World Cup shout out at the end.
| Sometimes I dream that the
whole world's eyes are on me.
I throw a baseball in the air.
Sometimes it goes a mile onto
Waveland Avenue or Big Mac Land,
Both our neighbor's back yard.
I see myself soaring through the air,
just like Mike.
Or shooting two for IU
stopping to turn on the
Assembly Hall lights in our garage.
On a clear, crisp autumn day,
I grab the football and start to run
making my way through a pack of invisible linemen.
I am Peyton, Emmitt, Unit,
Elway, Shaq or Maddux,
Or even someone really neat,
I am that big kid down the street.
Sometimes I see that spotted ball,
I dream that I am streaking down the
field, guiding the ball with my feet,
I aim for a net of picket fence,
I run, I kick and it goes through.
Sometimes I dream
That she is me.