One More Time

baseball metaphor poem... tried and true or tired and used. :P

The boy taking the mound is steely eyed
against the jeers and catcalls.
I want to be like him,
to shut out everything and focus on the moment.
Who is to say I'm not
or that he's not like me?

That later the mask comes off with the gear,
his face softening as he transforms.
No longer a man in uniform,
just a boy
in some cheap hotel room,
beer warming in one hand
as he relives every failure,
every pitch that bit the dirt,
the two that grazed the hitters,
the three straight walks
all set to the screams of "Bullpen!"

It's what I do,
marking the details of each fail
that was inches from success,
every second-best,
whatever it takes to forget
because I have to get up
and do it all again.

All I see is the set of his jaw,
the fluid motion
as he raises ball in glove above his head
and slings it toward the plate.

Can shake it off, stare down anyone
who'd like to see me fail,
avoid the eyes of every friend
who wants to help but can't
(because the truth is I'm alone out here)
and raise my head
like nothing's wrong?

It's not a game.
All eyes are not on me.
Still
the pressure's on
to perform.
Shake it off, shake it off.
What's one more loss?

Let me be like him--
the boy who can't pitch for s**t,
and fearless without shame
lock eyes
with friend or foe
and stare them down.