After two days of drudgery
Philadelphia style
I needed some therapy.
The Sixers are blowing it.
The Phillies are blowing
The Flyers are not helping.
Something needed to give,
Something to restore that Philadelphia feeling.

I stepped back into the 70s,
Back onto Kensington Ave,
A little celluloid doctoring
With a love story masking as a fighting movie…
Rocky, a great one,
Something to take me away from these struggles,
Sports, politics, pandemics.
I needed this tonight.

This morning, an off day,
I headed out with my dog
For what would be a short walk
Because he does not like the heat.
It was early, the night’s moisture still heavy,
The sun just starting to blaze.
We headed for a new place,
The next district over,
A rival of sorts, but lots of good folks over there.

Pandemic air is clearing and stuff is coming back
Stuff like sports, including cross country.
Thank goodness for the kids,
They need to be together, learning, competing,
Hell, just being kids
And there were a bunch of them having a run,
It looked like a cross country practice
A lot of runners,
All smiling, laughing, and sticking together.

E and I kept driving, heading around the circle
Making it to the park,
Social distancing, masks, old people, new normal.
I sure prefer the old way,
Hanging with my mates, running without fear,
And I’m scared things will never go back,
That we are too afraid.
I know that sounds callous, unfeeling, maybe delusional, but
If there’s practice, shopping, work, there can be school, too.

I took a page from my dog today,
Played hard then wasted the rest of my time
By sleeping and WATCHING GOLF!!!
Some would snidely say that the two don’t differ…

Finally, some sports to watch,
Albeit without the fans,
Which is okay because I don’t have to hear
The chuckleheads yell, “In the hole.”

The day was looking like a zero
On the afternoon effort level
When an email came that a big box company
Has a squat rack back in stock.

My middle finger hovered over the buy now button
Until I came to my senses,
Checked in on my Flow State DNA profile
And remembered that I like to build things.

Only right now I don’t feel like spending money
Which included the thought of buying more wood
So I dismantled some shelves in a college quality cabinet
Then reassembled them into a stoic’s bench press.

Six pieces of wood, nine screws, and some rearranging
And now we can bench press,
And eat, and pay for all the other stuff we need
Like internet tv so I can watch some more golf tomorrow.

Baseball starts tomorrow,
Lukewarm about it
Until about 4pm on Sunday.

It’s time to play ball,
Pop of the leather,
The crack of the bat

All that cliche stuff
That surrounds the game,
The nostalgia, the soul.

Kids say they hate baseball,
Basketball with a stick is the new thing,
That’s what they said about soccer.

It seems like it comes down to this,
Can you hit a baseball?
Because there is no feeling like it.

If you can’t hit, you’ll never know,
So fling your body around the field in pads and helmets,
Your skill good, but basketball at best.

One guy running free,
In hoops a ball hog, a cherry picker,
In lax, a superstar.

Look, I’ve got no hate for lacrosse,
It’s a beautiful game that is lost on me,
So stop trying to gain support by hating on baseball.

It’s unbecoming of an upstart sport…

Watching these kids run
Without much reason
For me being there
Creates some distance on my part
From the purpose of their running.

They are so optimistic,
Hoping for the few spots available.
I’m grizzled, burnt, and apathetic,
Too bothered to care these days before tryouts.

Only one here tonight
Will be eligible for my team.
He’ll make it,
So will I
When the time is correct.

My team is cool,
We haven’t come together, though,
Young ones,
Still trying to understand
Teams are greater than individuals,
The stuff of sacrifice, and that
Winning is more about attitude than results.
We’ll figure it out
Because all of us are cool,