Sunday, August 12, 2018

A Poem Called The Year I Forgot Why Sports Are Interesting


The year I forgot why sports are interesting.

I’ve felt it fade, slowly degrade, over the last couple years.

But now it’s gone.

No interest at all.

Depleted, a well of dust.

Why did I care so much?

Why did I wear other peoples’ names on my back?

Why did their accomplishments make me smile?

Why did their failures make me wince, weep?

What’s interesting about seeing someone hit a ball?

Throw a ball,

Catch a ball?

Honestly, I can’t recall,

and I feel so foolish for how deeply it once mattered. 

I have my life.

My own hits and misses to be concerned with.

If I strike out, I feel it: Sorrow.

So I know I’m still a human,

but I feel so far away from that foundation I was raised on.

I’ve forgotten where the Shortstop should shift,

When to throw a change-up,

or even what that pitch entails.

I can’t quite clearly visualize the infield fly rule like i used to…

and I don’t mourn the absence of that knowledge.

I only wonder why it ever mattered at all.


The year I forgot why sports are interesting.