Her great-grandfather, nicknamed "Mouse"
Was a high school quarterback
At a military school in Tennessee
The nickname came from poker nights.
Her grandfather was a decent high school
Fullback until his knees gave out
And the coaches forced him to start
The plays hiking balls between those knees.
Her dad chased quarterbacks to ground
Until a bum knee and lack of eligibility
Wouldn't let him play anymore;
His mother was glad when it was all over
And told him so on the last field of battle.
She learned fight songs and safety blitzes
On green fields cut on Tennessee mountaintops
And between the hedges in Athens
Until she could call plays in her sleep.
She was born for it, bred to a five yard pace,
No cheerleader or majorette here,
But a soul-shaking excitement
When the air turns cool and humidity fades,
The Friday night light poles
Casting a holy halo above her head in the Autumn chill.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment