the shot

It has happened, again, father said to his son,
We’ve once more been wooed and seduced
into thinking, my Lord, it’d be different this time,
that this time, we just couldn’t lose.

As he said so his focus, again, scanned the board
the reality dealt his soul more --
Shot, Drive, Fumble, Mesa, Red Right 88 --
‘tis the last time, he silently swore.

Then from the next seat came the tiniest touch,
Little Billy, his face red and wet.
“We’ve still got a second, Dad, don’t give up hope,
“there’s time for a miracle, yet.”

The dad turned to fils and gathered a breath.
“It is time, my sweet son, you must know
“This is Cleveland, not anyplace else in the world
“If you’re Cleveland, all ends but in woe.”

As TV took its breaks and the pundits began
to hammer the soul of the place,
the youngster who knew not of life’s heartache, yet,
why, a short smile crept up ‘cross his face.

“LeBron is here, dad; he won’t let us lose,”
and the dad, wearied out, shook his head
“’Tis to much to ask of a man even him.”
Shot, Drive, Fumble, 88 Right and Red.

For it wasn’t one shot or one point at the task,
It was years of it all hung askew
And to cover it all in one tick of the clock
e’en Clevelanders knew what they knew.

But then something happened, Dad and son saw
That changed all their views of the world.
In the longest of seconds, the shortest of time
all the ghosts of defeat out were hurled.

A player name Mo, not a Stooge, not this time
packed his hopes and all theirs in a toss
of the ball to the player who came to its call
one sec’ now ‘tween a breath and a loss.

As he caught it and rose, all there rose’d up, too
and no one dared even a breath
as he loosed free the ball and he drifted and watched
one short moment ‘tween life and its death.

The clock clicked to zero, the place still a morgue
not a yell, not a smile, not a peep
‘til the ball touched the rim and dropped through to the floor
then the screams roused e’en Moses from sleep.

“We win, we do win, I told you so, dad.”
And the father hugged son, spilled his beer
‘til the next time, dad thought, always that, always that,
but for now, what the hell, let’s just cheer.