Sunday, June 16, 2013

He Never Missed a Game

—David Iribarne, Sacramento

Orange with black lines
smooth surface.

Like the beat of a drum,
it hits against the concrete.

Whenever I play, I think
of how my father introduced
me to the game.
How he spent hours with me
night and day
showing me how to dribble,
shoot and pass.

I would practice long hours,
the sound of the ball clanging
against the rim—
etched in my brain.

Sometimes when you’re playing
with a bunch of guys
it doesn’t feel like they’re there,
it’s just you, the ball, and the basket.

Father traveled many miles
stayed awake long hours
watched his son play many games.
He never missed a game,
always there to see what his son had learned
to see him pass that ball
grab that rebound
shoot that winning shot.
Smiles as he watches his student.

This ball and I have been
through a lot together.
Color fading from hours
being beaten against the concrete.

It hits the ground,
black lines fading
from long hours of playing and learning
memories ever awakening.