Football Executioner
Mixing metaphors here
As I mused over what to call this
Mixed feelings as I pause
To contemplate my fathering journey
One son is obsessed with the English Premier League
The other with Storm Trooper Executioners
They flip-flop really from one to the other
Leaving me bemused and often bewildered
While I don’t mind some Jedi mind tricks
With football my mind goes ballistic
Since young I hated the game because
Of adverse childhood knocks and pains
The silly ball won’t leave me alone
Chasing me (not the other way around)
As I lumber away ever slow
Always wanting to be the first to go (home!)
By fate’s cruel twist my boys love the sport
And I’m forced to swallow my aversion
To learn to grin and support
Them as they play and talk of the game
Yet I can’t help now and then
To wish for a different scene
Where other sports like say tennis (?)
Can occupy their young dreams
But I know I’m firmly in the global minority
Football is still number one in nearly every country
So folks like me must best lie low
Or face certain wrath that may end in blows
Besides it’s different now
These are my boys
Can I really expect them to stay toddlers
Playing only with cuddly toys?
And can I stick to my guns
Not budging from my prejudice
Without risking a lost connection
With two boys I caused to exist?
If that means I’m to be
A football executioner
Then by golly that’s what I’ll be
For I’m a parent who loves my kids
Eternally.
[For the record, I joined my eldest to watch the Euro Cup Final at 3 am local time today! Tho’ I lasted just 30 minutes, I still thought it a personal best *grin*]
