No matter your team,
there is always that one player
who has grabbed your heart, forcing you
to check his stats in the daily box score.
When your favorite is playing good ball,
sunlight bathes the playing field.
There is a spring in your step,
and you don’t mind if your boss
has asked you to work overtime.
But when your favorite is playing poorly,
there is a hesitant stumble in your step,
and you do mind when your wife
has asked you to pick up some groceries.
We are our own heroes in the good times,
with horizons clear and unlimited.
We are our own heroes in the bad times,
with horizons pinched and cut off.
We identify with our gods so closely,
there is no distinction between them and us.
We are them; they are us, gaudy fantasy stars,
mocking the cruel reality of our everyday lives.