I am what I am – or was,
a near-sighted nerd
whose vision extended only to
the box scores in the daily papers.
Batting averages saved me,
the three digit numbers
that tracked and certified
the fortunes of my favorite players.
I would make up dice games
with my players, a precursor
to the popular fantasy games today.
I was ever wary of venturing outside
to meet the neighborhood bullies
who delighted in my fearfulness.
So, with pale skin and bad eyes,
I took refuge in my room,
and hovered over my players,
calculating their hits and misses.
No, I did not become a statistician,
but survived the pubic wars,
knowing there was safety in numbers –
my numbers to the third place.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME