Member-only story
A Mother’s Love of the Game
Basketball
Thud, the muffled rhythm of the ball
resounds through the hall, through the wall.
Squeak, sneakers sliding, screech.
Drip, drop, perspiration, and concentration,
pour down faces, down arms and legs
onto the court, a tangy odour through the door.
Whistle, silence, a strategy pause,
a haka-like rumble, a stomp back
onto the court. Thud, squeak, a coach’s yell,
handclaps, cheers, defence, defence!
A whistle screams foul, silence.
A tense wait, a heartbeat pounding,
ball bounced, eyes focused, arms raised,
a breath-holding free throw made.
Thud, squeak, one last run, do not travel,
layup done, game won, a group embrace,
training over — A quick shower, door opens,
and now — it’s time for home, my son.
Today, 25 April, is Poetry Day Ireland on the theme of “Good Sports”.
I remembered writing this for my son years ago in memory of the many years of driving him back and forth to training and games. The car rides were very precious moments indeed…sigh!
#PoetryDayIRL