the not-so-beautiful game

I first set my eyes on hockey at 11,
and havent taken them off since,
(thats ice hockey by the way
not grass)

I remember the first time I sat,
on the solid plastic seat,
pupils glued to the tiny disk of rubber,
skidding and sliding across the ice

It always amazed me how such huge men,
could even be challenged,
by something so tiny,
so insignificant

We lost that first game,
as we did in so many others that followed,
yet still the season break,
leaves a space in my life, wating impatiently to be filled again

Even today as I sit here,
on the same green plastic seat,
same smell of stale chips wafting,
and same bitter air biting at my hands

Watching as the neon glow of the lights beams down,
illuminating the ice with a silver aura,
as the nimble giants engrave the surface,
with blades of velvety steel

I dread the end of the season


In britain, people call football the beautiful game,
I think theyre wrong

Tonight 2469 people agreed with me