Poetry Reprints

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Reprinted from Feet First: Winter 2001 Ode on a Soccer Ball (A poem with an inflated sense of importance - but most players won't think so.) We kick it, we pound it, We loft it, we ground it - It's always there, ready for more. We bounce it, we head it, Sometimes we forget it - We wear it out, down to the core. We juggle and pass it, We punt it and blast it - A wonderfully versatile sphere. We guard it, we trap it, We push it, we tap it - We work with it year after year. We fight it, respect it, But never neglect it - An object not easy to tame. We live it, we breathe it, We certainly need it - Without it we don't have a game! M. Levine

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Reprinted from Feet First: Spring 2001 For Whom the Ball Rolls (Everybody wins) Involving our kids in a wholesome pursuit Is one of our prime motivations. In soccer or chess or in playing the flute - We do it without hesitation. We tell them it's only for having some fun, While gaining some useful new knowledge. It's good for them, also, to get out and run - Could get them (who knows?) into college. So some of us spend all our time running leagues, Getting kids out to play, on the double. And it's not only good for the children, you see, It also keeps us out of trouble. M. Levine (Think of this as an indirect call for volunteers. Get involved in a small job. Then, if you like, we can always find bigger and much more time-consuming jobs for you (or you'll find them yourself). You will also find that the more you do, the more connected you will feel to the results, and the more satisfaction you will enjoy.)

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Reprinted from Feet First: Winter 2000 Come Bond With Us (No extra charge for voluteering.) Volunteer? You want me? Why, you must be insane! I don't think that you know what you say! I am already stressed by the effort I make Just to get my kids out there to play! And just what do you mean, I should put up some cash? This is ransom! You must be berserk! Don't you know that I sign up for soccer because It's so cheap and I don't have to work! Oh? - You say that the work bond was just voted down? ... What a shame ... What a sad, final fate. You should find a recruit to go after those folks Who pretend they can't pull their own weight. M. Levine (This poem is based on some of the actual responses to the Work Bond Survey on our web site. Of course, I may have exaggerated a little, but, honestly, only a very little. One person thought we were going to take a vote on the Work Bond at the June general meeting, and asked if they might demonstrate their commitment to the league by using an absentee ballot. Honestly.)

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Reprinted from Feet First: Fall 2000 Coaches Wanted (On the double.) Coach two teams; you will see its great fun, If you like being kept on the run. And the effort? Land sakes! Just a bit more, it takes, Than just twice what it takes to coach one. M. Levine (This is not a complaint. Only an observation . . . and a warning.)

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Reprinted from Feet First: Fall 1998 Give A Little, Get A Lot (Small sacrifices can reap great rewards) They needed coaches this past spring And so they drafted me. I said, “OK, I'll do it. Sure.” Just how hard could it be? With thirteen kids to do the job, Filled with enthusiasm, You just encourage them, that's all. Don't criticize or razz 'em. You tell them that you're on their side Come win or lose or tie. Just let them play as kids do best. It doesn't matter why. Give some direction (just enough), They always give their best. I guide. They play. Who has more fun? That's anybody's guess. M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Spring 1999 Thanks, I Needed That (And you thought I wasn't listening.) Please remind me I should “Boot it!” I forgot that's what to do. And please don't neglect “Now, Shoot it!” So I'll know this goal's for you. And much thanks for often saying I should “Get it out of there!” For, sometimes when I am playing I think I should keep it here. I know, when you ask the question, "Just what did you do that for!?" It's from love comes your suggestion, And I dearly wish for more. Yes, dear parent/fan, I'm grateful For your pointers - every one. Keep them coming by the plateful, They make soccer sooooo much fun. M. Levine Test marketing of this poem revealed that its irony might be too obscure. If you didn't find it humorous, please reread it with slightly restrained false sincerity, and, in the last line, give it a tone of thinly veiled sarcasm. Sorry.

Reprinted from Feet First: Fall 1999 A Fanciful History of Soccer (The ravin's of a poe, misguided editor. With grave apologies to Edgar Allan.) It was many and many a year ago In a kingdom by the sea, That a child there lived whom you don't know, For his name's lost to history. And this child, he lived with no other thought Then to play, and play endlessly. And so this child, and friends of this child, In this kingdom by the sea, Were evermore thinking up ways that they Could spend their days more pleasantly. One fine day he remarked, “Oh, if only we had Some small object to kick around.” So they scoured the shoreline and hunted the hills, Yet, no suitable thing could be found. Then, as if quite inspired by heavenly seraphs, He called them all to attention And asked them politely to take off their socks, Which they did with great glee, need I mention. Swiftly rolling them up, stuffing one in the next, He soon held quite a sizeable sphere. And they kicked it about, with increasing elation While everyone started to cheer! Though no monument stands and no writings attest To the field where they first kicked and ran, And created the rule that the ball shan't be touched (Since one never puts socks on the hand); Still, I'm sure you believe me, for, truth do I speak. This is really how socker began. M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Winter 1999 The Field is Always Greener... (A Hyperbolic Parable) In a land called Reversania, Where the birds fly upside-down, Sometimes things seem quite insania. (If you're happy you should frown.) And the sport they have a mania For is Soccer--but not quite. All their games are played in rainia, And they all take place at night. At these games they're always silent, It's a most disturbing sight. And the play is far from violent, Quite unnaturally polite. Grassy fields, like none that we've seen. Can't imagine how they do it. Silky smooth and deepest jade green, Not a clod of earth shows through it. They have futuristic goal nets That rise up out of the ground. It takes seconds when they say, “Let's Go! It's time to take them down.” It's no shock to find they sign up To be goalies--it's their mission. All the players rush to line up For a chance at that position. And perhaps the reason for this Is the backward rules they play. Keepers never keep games scoreless. They just keep out of the way. Please don't rush there on the double, For, your envy's overdone. True, they don't have half our trouble, But, they don't have half our fun. M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Spring 1998 It's In There (Container may vary, but contents are guaranteed.) The perfect soccer player would Have nerves of ice and shins of steel, With speed to blast him up the field, And eagle eyes, and boundless zeal, Intelligence to play her game With tough defense, and marksman's skills, Reserves of energy that last Until the final whistle trills, This player is in all our kids, You watch them play, you'll be aware, Some show it more, some show it less, But there's no doubt that it's in there. M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Winter 1998 Above and Beyond (Is there life after soccer?) “No, not soccer again!” “Oh yes, soccer again.” “But I thought that this season was through.” “You forgot about make-ups And tournament shake-ups And meetings and practices too.” “Won't you rake up the leaves? Paint the dining room, please? It's been waiting since late ninety-three!” “Yes, you're right. No pretending. The chores are unending. But first comes THE TEAM, can't you see?” “Take a break. Never fear. Soccer won't disappear." “Don't the kids need a coach? Yes or No!?” “I must tell you, the fact is Our kids don't need practice. The youngest moved out years ago!” M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Fall 1997 The Toughest Job in The League (And I don't mean editing the newsletter.) They do the job, our referees- A most unbiased crew. They make the calls impartially, Of course, they miss a few. They'd like to be right every time, But life is not that kind. And few of us are paragons. (Do I need to remind?) So show restraint, don't criticize Decisions not quite true. Relax and let them judge the game. Don't cause them to judge you. M. Levine

Reprinted from Feet First: Winter 1997 Intangibles (Touching, yet untouchable.) Between the games and practices, There's barely a spare minute. Through frost and heat and misty rain- You name it, I've stood in it To see them kick that ball around With youthful sound and fury. The play's the thing they're out there for, But there's more to the story. Unknown to them, I tap their joy, It flows to me like water, To buoy my spirit as I watch, With pride, my son and daughter. M. Levine

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