Three times, within a month, I watched my team
Floundering as that relentless clock ticked
Toward doom. Three times (with barely suppressed scream)
I switched off, bedded myself, afflicted
With the nausea of bilious loss.
Each next day, sport-page news repaired my soul—
Miracle closing shots part the sea, glossed
My heart, saved, once more, from treacherous shoals.
Then, two days ago, I, again, blasphemed—
Shut off the damned TV—seven point four
Seconds left—down one—and the other team
Had the ball. No hope, right? Wrong! Kobe scored!
So what’s that worth to basketball’s fierce wars?
My juju conjured those wins! My weird lore
Unleashed the stunned crowd’s delirious roar!
I want a three year deal; with options for
Two years more.
(1/4/10)