I long to feel that feeling again
The feeling inside-like a surging tide
That feeling you can fly
as emotions touch the sky
That excitement,adrenaline
That keeps on flooding in
That determination,not giving in
A desire to see the win
As your dream rise higher
Keep feeding that fire
So dear beautiful game,
Life’s not the same
I long to feel your heartbeat again

Footballs always dazzled me,
composed boxes on the shelf,
like pigskin half moons and suns
needing tees from toppling down,
a kick or a toss to send them
hurling to human planets.

The long run, perfect spiral
is inherent in its form,
as is carnage, grace, error.
Its life is moving forward
in the give-take of the game
and the frenzied need to score.

In the flash of flight my dreams
ran thoughts of the gridiron:
the quick release, the jute fake,
the deer stride to the end zone,
the soft jump over the safety
for the champion touchdown—

existed in perfection
on the lined green schoolyard turf
until the surest pass ever thrown
slipped like butter through my hands,
the handoff fumbled down, down…
I was born… to be a fan.

Year after year
--at daylight savings--
he kept moving his clock backward,
but never forward,
until he wound-up in the wrong century.

He then slept in masks,
his dreams repeatedly
disbanding and reforming,
as if in someone else's show,
but it was his hallucinating set-list, for sure.

He lived at the call of the void,
feeding off peppermint sticks
and clusters of chokeberry,
to help ease the pressure.

One phantom summer,
he read The Joy of Euthanasia
from cover-to-cover, over and over,
until he could recite death.

He poured his heart
into his new work
as an artist of tacenda,
--yes, he kept a lid on it.

And when the pretty young bees
buzzed about underneath
their brazen parasols,
he'd smile up at the sun
for her complicit glow:
the warmest days
always drew them out to him,
like honey on the tongue.

Now naysayers may keep
him out of Canton,
but one day, like most serial killers,
they will name a school after him
and his hijinks.

when i hear the words 'on fire'
i picture strikers scoring goals,
with skill and prowess to admire -
not self-immolating blue-clad girls

the game can be so cruel...
are you as free as you think you are?
your views and wishes can lead to ruin,
yet your beliefs will get you far

our never-ending dream of a world of equality,
no borders - within or without
some might say you're of inferior quality
but have they a clue about

your struggles, your hardships, your toil?..
your designs they shan't ever foil
your eyes and your heart, shining bright,
will burn right through the day and the night

be the spark and light the fire!
a revolution of love -
something to remember and admire
be the last one to have a laugh

Listen what I say
U S A  say
Love to watch them play
U S A  play
Jump into the fray
U S A  fray
Going all the way
U S A  way

I've got the soccer itch
My team has perfect pitch
3 shutouts with no glitch
First place their current niche

Listen what I say
U S A  say
Love to watch them play
U S A  play
Jump into the fray
U S A  fray
Going all the way
U S A  way

Begin the knockout stage
Best teams will now engage
World Cup is all the rage
Women's soccer's come of age

Listen what I say (say)
Soccer say
Love to watch them play (play)
U S A  play
Jump into the fray (fray)
Football fray
Going all the way (way)
World Cup way

'Bonne chance' to other teams
Pursuing football dreams
Planning out their winning schemes
While the crowd cheers and screams

Listen what I say (say)
Soccer say (say)
I love to watch them play (play)
U S A  play
Jump into the fray (fray)
Football fray (fray)
Going all the way (way)
World Cup way (way)

It's in their DNA...
Women's soccer's brand new day!

I've never been a huge socializer,
and that's really all,
that people seem to do at football games.
So, why even go?
Well, now that I'm a member of the marching band,
it looks like I have to.
I mean, last night I never really thought that I'd have fun.
I mean, who wants to just go and scream for 3 hours?
I guess I do.
Last night was amazing.
You get to just be yourself,
and you just forget about everything.
You just realize more and more through the game,
that's it's just about having a blast and playing songs,
to keep the team going.
There we were, waving our instruments,
screaming for our team,
and having the time of our lives.
Now, I know for a fact,
that at the end of the season,
I will do anything to go back,
and do it all again...

i.
The sight of it brings back memories of
Your rival team, confronting you on the line of scrimmage,
The rain pouring down, stinging your face,
Your breath misting in the arctic air.

ii.
The smell of it brings you back to that Friday night
When you tripped up the bleachers and
Spilled popcorn all over yourself because
Her red hair and bright smile made you stop in your tracks.

iii.
The clang of the pins against each other
Follows you in the hallway wherever you go,
Reminding you of that triumphant feeling
That took over when your basketball team won districts.

iv.
The warm feeling that fills your heart when
You give it to her, the red-haired bright-smiled girl,
Matches the warm feeling she feels when she
Puts it on, drowning in your scent.

v.
You know that years later, after you’ve left high school
And everything about that place behind,
The sight of that jacket will bring back all the memories
Of football games, Friday nights, championships, and her.