Sunday, February 18, 2007

Tribute to a Soccer Ball

I'm, I'm so in love with you
Whatever you want to do
Is alright with me
'Cause you make me feel, so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you - Al Green

It was just over a year ago, beloved inflatable friend, that I scouted you among all the colorful and shiny...soccer balls (where did you think I was going with this?) . There you were, in your shiny white, blue and black dress, beckoning for my attention. You were of the less expensive variety – after dispensing Presidents Hamilton and Lincoln to the young lady cashier, you were mine. All mine. Nobody could ever claim the very love I had for you since my eyes met your shiny blue box.

You became a quick associate of my right heel soon afterward in a nearby park. We enjoyed the unseasonable early-February conditions. A gray blanket lay over us that afternoon, as if to ensure our first private moments. No one else. Just the two of us.

Oh, how I kicked you around! Kicked? Caressed! In the process, you were kissed with scratches and abrasions due to the gravel and chain-link fence enclosing our little escapade. It was a honeymoon to which I dreamed would continue well beyond this mild afternoon.

And it did, the very next day. Clearly, you and I were not meant to be apart for long. Instead of a deserted field, we rendezvoused in my backyard right before the Super Bowl.
While football was being played thousands of miles away between two teams I could care less about, you and I were playing true football. The “football” played by everyone else except we Americans. And while our practice was much different than the previous day’s, with the confines much narrower and level, it nonetheless brought the same joy to my face.

Here were are good friend, one year removed from that fateful day and you still hold my attention as much as you ever did. Little did I know how much you’d seduce me into attending soccer matches, practices, and purchasing colorful memorabilia to commemorate our bond.

You magic little sphere, you – who could have anticipated the unmistakable charm you held, like a baby bird inside an enclosed palm?

(sigh)
I love you, Nike T-90 Training ball...

No comments: