The smell of pine,
the butterflies twirl in his stomach, as he watches the clock run down
his sweaty palms feel the grooves of the ball
legs begin to shake when he smells the starters B.O.
shivering he hears the buzzer for half.

Teeth chomping he smells sweaty clothes,
a burst of nervous energy runs through him as watches the coaches face go red,
while stretching he feels his warm up still on,
the scent of the announcers popcorn as his name is called.

The butterflies fly away,
his legs go still,
teeth stop chomping,
then ball is inbounded.

He knows it’s his turn.