One of the Five

"Make it look good" – The team lines up.
Side by side, stretching across the court,
Each foot touches its neighbor.
It's tradition in its own right.

The band starts up: "Oh, say can you see…"
Your heart beats hard under your hand.
The band winds down: "… and the home of the brave."

In the thunder of feet you make your way to the bench.
The seat under you is cushioned,
But you don't pay attention to that.
You're one of the five now.

One by one, four of your teammates run out.
Your name is about to be called;
So that all can hear it.
They will know who you are.

"And at 6'2 the starting forward for our ladies, number 20…"
Your hands slap with your team,
You reach the end of the line: low, high, a salute –
And you're off.

Quick fist bumps with the reffs,
A shake with the opposing assistant coach.
You turn run back to your team.

Shaped in a crescent moon they wait.
Clapping, stomping, cheering.
For you.
You crash into the waiting hands.

The chant:
"All for one, one for all,
Together we win, divided we fail."

Hustle now, hustle to the bench.
We huddle around Coach.
Listening to plays, listening to strategies.

Your eyes drift,
You look to the crowd.
The stands are full, brimming with people.
With fans.

Your eyes fall back to your coach,
In time for the break.

As you, plus four others, run to the center of the floor,
Panic swells in your chest.
You're jumping now.

"Tip it, twenty, tip it!
(Clap, Clap)
Tip it, twenty, tip it!
(Clap, Clap)
Tip it, twenty, tip it!"

The ball leaves the reff's hands.
It flies above...
And finally, you start.

Yes, this IS a prose. That's still poetry. Derr.


So, March Madness I must so brought on this poem.
Go OU!
But more importantly... Go Big Orange!

Annnnnnnnnnnyway - review? Pwease?