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Rated: E · Poetry · Sports · #2195267
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.

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