Calling Cadence

The frosted air,
the dying grass
upon the field.
Autumn leaves flame red
on hills behind,
echoing cheers
of football fans
at Homecoming.

Cadence called,
every muscle tenses.
The snap,
the charge,
potential become kinetic.
The hit,
the shoving hands,
the strain.
Looks of frustration
in opponents’ eyes –
how I loved it –
as we advance required yards
to gain our first and ten.

Amid the anticipation
of a game that will be won,
I am aware
that all things end
and cannot be repeated endlessly.
Last Homecoming game -
Last award of local fame.
Last cheers on our home field.
With the ending of this season,
I hang up my shoes,
turn my back and walk away
from what has
defined my life thus far.

And I am,
on that winning day,
fearful and confused
for I cannot –
since I was three
and all the big lads
on the block let me play
in their scrimmage –
remember
a life without a
football in my hands.

In the intervening
decades learned
that service,
and not receipt of praises,
is the purpose of my life.
And I take more
lasting pleasure now
from one person’s smile
of thanks,
than any accolade or trophy
that I had won
on sporting fields.
Besides, in my career
I still get to pummel
my opponents,
and force a hole
through which others
make ‘yardage’ in their lives.


James Gagiikwe © 2008