I played basketball
for one season
in seventh grade,
the year I grew
seven inches in six months.
I was awful,
all legs and awkward,
daunted by the frenetic pace,
and sneaker squeaks,
and the yelling of my
teammate’s dad turned coach.
I much prefer
the collective frenzy
of March Madness
with its blown up brackets,
and its barstool sideline seats,
and its upsets that have
nothing at all to do with
my inability to dribble a ball
and run at the same time.
Basketball is just so much
more fun this way,
guessing and hoping
for someone else’s win
and tagging along
with friends
for the whole wild ride.
Though I am just as bad
at this game, and honestly,
maybe even worse.
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