When my team has lost four in a row,
why do I acutely feel the pain?
When my team has been shut out once again,
why must I play the part of a shut-in,
refusing to go out into the sunlight?
When my favorite ballplayer goes 0 for 4,
why do I feel I might be sent down to Triple-A?
I cannot control the tides.
I cannot control the wind.
I have little influence over
what friends and family are wont to do.
There is preciously little of my fate I am master of.
Shouldn’t I receive some sad solace
for my longtime loyalty?
Shouldn’t my years of dumb allegiance
be rewarded by a victory now and then?
C’mon guys, scratch out a win.
I can’t afford to wait ‘til next year.
My life is running out of seasons.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME