Today is special.
It's kickball day.
The gymnasium echos
With exuberant voices
Slapping slick walls
Bouncing blissfully ‘round.
Raised voices resound
Reflecting back all
But one voice.
With head bowed
His neck strains
Under the weight
Of great expectations.
This game makes
Men of boys
And classroom legends
Are born here.
Maple wood planks
Tell their story.
Scuff marks left
From defiant soles.
This game is
His origin story.
He sits silently.
Awaiting his glory.
He’s come prepared.
His secret weapon
Cowboy boots with
Steel-toe enclosed
Guaranteeing balls fly
Higher, further, faster.
Nevermind that they’re
Horrible for running
He will only
Kick home runs.
Coaches voice rings
Above all else.
Time for teams.
Everyone number off.
One, two, one.
Teams now done.
It seems Fate
Is never arbitrary.
Team two stacked.
Team one lacks,
Everything but his
Steel-toe boots.
Odds against them
Is too perfect
For this stoic
Legend to be
What a backdrop
For his at-bat
His kicks will
Save them all.