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Four
feet underwater. The high school playing fields were drowned
When aftermath of storms immersed the lawns.
Then just as quickly, sun returned
And river sullenly receded like a child sent off to bed.
And ducks patrolled again the waters placid,
Seeking goodies hid in nooks by floods gone by.
Soccer pitches surfaced once again
and grew their greensward carpets,
Red-flag markers, and the goal-mouth nets
That billow in the wind like spinnakers this day.
All around us stand the flaming trees
Enkindled by nocturnal fog and hoar-frost white
Which painted all the foliage in iridescent Monet shades.
Walks and strolls through wooded
glades
Now shower you with falling flurries of the leaves.
In prologue now they imitate the lightweight snows
Which lurk beyond the fall’s horizon
And await their time impatiently.
In the midst of this impressionistic
fantasy are soccer matches pitting
Our best Hoggers wild against the beastly greenies
On the field of dreams where
Every one can emulate Zidane or Maradona, Rivaldo,
Baggio, Pele, Valderrama or Rinaldo.
Hoggers’ novice boy trots out in cleats
And tests the soft terrain, yearning to excel,
And bucking odds, as is the story of his life.
A longshot tryout at the soccer camp won him spurs, but barely,
On the strength of his commitment, not stellar skills nor prowess
as an athlete.
Determined to succeed, he trained with fury,
Garnering the starting wing slot for this epic rival contest.
Home and confident this day emerge
the home-field greenies,
Resplendent in those verdant uniforms,
With dads and moms galore to cheer them on.
The Hogger stalwarts soon arrive on plodding bus,
With half as many substitutes,
Away-team outfits bland as nurses’ garb,
And only one fanatic there to cheer them on.
They're on the spot, and so's the
boy,
Who knows the fan to be his dad
Who journeyed all night long to view
The only game he'd ever get to see of Son
On teams adorned with Hoggers’ jersey proud.
The school-sports rivalry is legend.
The pressure looms enormous, even more
When greenies cancel Hoggers’ early lead
With equalizing goal once one-hour's all-out play is past.
Momentum swings from Hoggers to
the greenies running fleet
Who play with great abandon, buoyed by cheers
Resounding on the shores of the majestic river.
A one-one tie looks unavoidable as
Seconds tick,
The coaches agonize, and
Shadows stretch their growing gloom.
Fatigue becomes the extra odd defensive player
Helping to suppress the score.
The boy, so tired, propels his
corner kicks into the fray
And makes lead passes to the inside, all in vain
As knots of green defenders and a cat-like goalie thwart
Unflinchingly each sally.
Then, near closing time, a freakish
opportunity appears from nowhere:
The greenies’ goalie charges out to meet attackers, leaving
empty nets.
Hoggers’ striker fires off his rocket shot
And hits it wide to right, just missing net,
But landing on the foot of - zounds! - that serendipitous crusader
Boy right-wing who's sprinting in from somewhere,
Trapping ball and sinking goal from two feet out
As bedlam instantly engulfs the white-clad team.
Scoring hero leaps to sky and falls
to grassy mattress
Underneath the crushing hugs of half-score teammates
Shouting ecstasy like kids
Until he flattens out beneath like hotcakes on a steaming griddle,
Laughing through the full-team press
That takes his breath away
While antagonists and refs attempt to play
The meaningless last moments rounding out the seesaw match.
All the while Canadian geese are
flocking,
Migrants from the tundra,
Celebrating human triumphs on a wavelength all their own.
They fly those perfect V-for-victory formations up above,
Saluting his astounding feat.
So the record stands with visitors
as victors in a 2-1 tally.
Doubted so by others, boy-newcomer now is viewed as savior--
Horatio at the bridge!--
Showing perseverance at the crux of triumph.
Some day soon he'll know, as well as we know now,
That lessons learned courageously on fields today
Serve, metaphorically, the real-world challenges
Inevitable in the years of full maturity to come.
---By Paul Hertelendy
©2008 by Paul Hertelendy. The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. This poem first posted March 24, 2008.
Paul Hertelendy is critic
and webmaster for the arts-review web site www.artssf.com, and
is also the Piedmont (CA) Centennial poet laureate. To visit his
website, click here: PAUL
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