Titans
Children of Gaea and Uranus,
Deities, the chosen famous.
Not Oceanus, Crius, or Cronus,
But modern day wizards -- Magic,
Aussie predator with a niblick,
Europe's swiftest on a bike.
Every kid would be like Mike.
Any man can write a book or make a rocket fly,
But a ball travelling the will of its tosser,
Is the stuff to start the crowd's sigh.
The world is full of learned men,
Full of thinkers and teachers;
The fame and money goes to those,
Whose feats can fill the bleachers.
If Shaq's attack becomes rough and tumble,
An elbow and a look turns to rumble,
Shaq is apt to pay in fine a week's remuneration.
College profs toil quite long for equal consideration.
Workers in steel and coal sweat away a year
To earn less than sporting gods selling Lite beer.
Is athletic prowess correctly lauded?
Shouldn't Titans be lavishly rewarded?
If these posers give you cause to pause,
You've never seen Jordan defy the laws
Of gravity by doing, on air, a perfect pirouette,
By leaping and flying above hoop and net.
You have surely never witnessed Nicklaus rake
A rough-bound ball with his iron marked "1,"
And launch it under limb and over lake,
And land it gently down upon the green.
If such feats by Jack you indeed have seen,
You won't begrudge his earning a ton,
Else you've never tried to hit an iron marked "1."
1995. David J. L'Hoste. All rights reserved.