October 18, 2007
As I step onto the field the air cool and wet
I look at my opponent; so clean they look, but somewhat distraught
I take the ball as the whistle blows for all to hear
I cut it back and forth with my smooth feet
I pass the ball precisely, as a surgeon bearing down on a patient
The ball flies into the air; my teammate heads the ball like an angry Ram
As the ball crosses back and forth, side to side we never lose sight of it
We move closer to the target taking out each enemy that stands in the way to victory
Our cleats grip into the field as sharks teeth into its prey
I pass and move into place even but not ahead of my enemy
I watch my man cut and confuse the enemy until he loses him
Then I get into position away from the other colored player
The ball crosses the field to my feet
I look for an opening a clear hit to the base they work so hard to protect
Cleats grip the field; I wind to kick the ball
I hit it in the perfect spot; The ball soars into the sky spinning
Soars right to the corner of the base they protect
Soars just beyond reach of the man that protects it over his finger tips
With precise effort I hit my target


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