Last one picked, I join the team,
Already huddled, already living the dream
That I keep dreaming from the sidelines,
Running lines, waiting for a chance to take the stage.
I sit, an understudy, jersey and all,
Waiting for Coach to make the call.
But futile, no contest, I can’t compete,
I’m tall and awkward, with two left feet.
I look across the blades of grass,
I move so quick, I run so fast,
I dominate in every way,
and capitalize on every play.
The crowd it cheers, but loudly now,
The play at an end, I take a bow,
And then I wake to the game at hand,
A perfect view from near the stands...
The lights they shine, but not on me,
A win, but no feeling of ecstasy
As I rush the field and fake a smile,
A hypocrite, lost in the pile
Of players.
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