"Replay" by Yoni Hammer-Kossoy

"Replay" Watercolor on Paper
By J. Artemus Gordon

Replay

Yoni Hammer-Kossoy

Outside the night 

was a cold clean sheet

stretched tight.

No one dared say

the only difference

between a last gasp kick

sailing wide by inches

and a fingertip catch

of the fluttering ball

shown over and over

from every possible angle

in slow and slower mo;

between a silent walk-off

and a celebratory pile-on;

between a lover's quarrel

and scorched earth

is a puff of wind.

Poet’s Notes:  Over the years, it has become more difficult for me to be a devoted football fan. Even without diving into controversies over identity politics and/or the physical dangers associated with the game, my main problems boil down to practical ones. First, the geographical distance between where I live and where the games are played make it impractical to watch games in real-time. Second, the simple fact of the matter is that outside of the US, the game called “football” uses a black and white ball and is actually played with a person’s feet. And yet, for big games, I still really enjoy getting together with friends and watching a replay the next day. As long as the beer is cold and no one blurts out any spoilers, it’s almost as good as the real thing.

Editor’s Note:  I've pretty much abandoned watching sports for the reasons Yoni states, but his point regarding the cold beer is well taken.  There is a certain making-a-point-about-the-pointless (pun intended) here that I enjoy, too.