Friday, February 16, 2024

On Any Saturday




On Any Saturday


The walls of the Coliseum are thicker than the thickest walls of ancient Troy,
For 35 Saturdays no invaders had come even close to breach or destroy
Hector’s sword held so high above Traveler’s hooves that not even Achilles would dare to tread
For invaders entering past the headless forms any hope is quickly shed
In the pros there may be a trace of pride but it’s mostly a paycheck race,
Money to earn before the gods of injury a career to quickly waste
But in the hearts of students looking for a degree there beats a different dream,
That rare chance to scale the walls and topple the greatest of winning teams.
Homer or Virgil may have been a myth but if the world is only in prose,
It is a foregone conclusion of who will prevail on the chalkboard of X’s and O’s.
The spread was forty and all knew the Tree would be felled by Hector’s sword
Networks fleeing for no one would watch the Color run and the innocents gored.
But if a poet could sing of men and ships and arms,
Would these walls still keep this winning team from any lasting harm?
No time to burn the boats only an hour of actual ticked off time on the clock,
Would the souls of Nevers, Plunkett and  a young father this night aid in a surprising shock?
No time for an elaborate siege or to disguise 64 men as a Trojan horse,
On whose side would pride or emotions first sputter and run their course?
The walls this night were not thick enough and the Color ran amuck,
After 35 games, finally, the Trojans had at last run out of luck.
Somewhere in the heavens there is a young father on celestial sidelines, who saw it all,
A young son still in grief with seconds left stretching out and catching the winning ball.
Years from now no one may remember this great upset or the final score,
Or how dreams rose within the Color to burst through a padlocked door,
Save the poet who will record and with muses seek others to aspire,
For an underdog’s dream once lit—no one should ever be allowed to put out that fire.
Always dream, never quit and never accept any effort other than one’s best,
On any night like the Color, you too may rise up and pass any daunting test. 

Michael P. Ridley
Aka the Alaskanpoet
© October 6, 2007

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