"backfield" poems
I hear the screeching sound,
Of the rioting crowd roaring like a lion,
When the weathered football is kicked,
Falling down like a missile,
Touching earth.
I see the opposing offence,
Passing for desperate yardage,
As our insane defense,
Forcefully sacks the quarterback,
In the backfield,
Providing our team with momentum.
I feel of the cold,
Icy wind as the ultimate play is about
To unfold,
As we play the fourth quarter.
The excruciating pain,
Of deliberately being bowled over,
By a linebacker with such vigorous
Power,
That your helmet is knocked off.
The relief of winning,
A difficult ballgame,
As we celebrate,
Another outstanding victory.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
More loose Ends
The dusty, ***** floor needs sweeping.
How hard am I willing to work?
I’m like a running back trying to move forward,
but my way is all blocked by big defensemen.
Will I keep my eyes open and moving?
Will I keep my body turned up field?
Will I keep my legs a-churning?
Will I run and pick my way,
through the maze that lies before me,
dodging the opposition, and gaining their turf?
Or:
Will I be a loner and run from everyone,
trying to make an end run all by myself,
and getting flattened by a swarming defense
that bridges me no gap?
What do I really want?
Do I really want Christ?
or
Do I want all the distractions of the world?
It seems I want them both.
Yet the Psalms say
there are only two ways
that a man may choose,
either God or the world.
So can I look into my own face and eyes
with enough seriousness
to cut through
all that is in me that is not true?
I could weep,
for I have been at this quest for as long as I can remember
and it’s always two steps forward and two steps back.
Yet here I am standing again,
ready to take the handoff from the quarterback
and try to outrace the opponents.
Lord please give me the faith and perseverance
to keep standing in here
in the backfield ready to run,
ready to always and ever keep trying again
regardless of past results
and unknown futures.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:18 PM UTC
why Flora
in acanthocephalan
there'd grabble
backfield in
motion again
but to
get worm
its relief
when probiotic
does savor
a vowel
to scrabble
and hemidemisemiquaver
a righteous
joint scalar
intermingle also
with mullah
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
We had a special play for the game against Highland
Park. It was called 36X. After some razzle-dazzle in
the backfield, Mike Gentry got the ball and ran 65 yards
for the winning touchdown. Frank Sewell was a power-
ful lineman--the center, actually. I played linebacker
on defense, and I was lucky, because I played right
behind right tackle, Ted Melinick, who wound up
getting a full football scholarship to KU (the University
of Kansas). My best friend, Ralph "Sandy" Sandmeyer,
half the size of Melinck, but the most tenacious lineman
on the team, was elected co-captain. I was the other one.
It matters not at what level you play. What matters are
the memories that stay with you for a lifetime--the snapshot
memories of special moments that flash through your
mind for the rest of your days. The camaraderie of your
teammates, particular plays--tackles, touchdown runs,
interceptions, even injuries you sustain--all form an
indelible montage. My favorite memory was the one
where, as a wide-receiver on offense, I went into the
flat to catch a pass, but was intercepted by Loyce Bailey.
I jumped on his back to tackle him, but he rode me like
a saddle for 40 yards. Loyce happened to be black, and
therefore lived in the black ghetto on the east side of
Topeka. He was also the best athlete in all of Topeka.
Bailey, like Melinick, got a full ride to KU to play foot-
ball. He was their starting saftey.
Several decades later, I saw Loyce again, this time at a
reunion. I reminisced with him about my futile attempt
to tackle him. He remembered the play, and we both
laughed loud and hard. We gave each other a big hug.
Another indelible memory.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 5:38 PM UTC
There was the backfield tandem of Doc Blanchard and Glenn Davies on several West Point football teams of the UOS.
There is that power hitting duo of the modern day Yankees - Gary Sanchez and Aaron Judge.
There were those great power hitters of the 70s, I believe, that seemed to come in clusters like Mike Schmidt, Breen Downing, and yes, I believe, John Milner.
There was, of course, Ruth and Gehrig that stood out on the 1927 Yankees.
There's Hawke Leonard and James Harden, an unsung pair of the San Antonia Spurs and the Houston Rockets, respectively, in pro basketball that stand out.
There's Stephan Curry and Kevin Durant, a Mutt and Jeff combination in the Golden State Warriors.
There was a couple of gifted first to play on a University of Illinois basketball team African Americans that were tantalizing good at that time - Mannie Jackson and Governor Vaughn.
There was those 4 great old time Boston Celtics guards; Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, K.C. Jones, and Sam Jones.
There was Bill Bradley and Dave Debusschere manning the wings of the New York Knickerbockers pro basketball teams of the late sixties, I believe.
There was Ron Kissinger and Glenn Becker, the keystone duo on the Chicago Cubs of the sixties, I believe.
There was Mainstay, reliable pitcher for the Casey Stengal dynasty teams - Vic Raschi and Allie Reynolds and there were great teamsmen of Vince Lombardi's pro football Green Bay Packers Super Bowl team like Dave Hammer, Forrest Gregg, and Boyd Dowler.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC