Bowling balls at painted on wall wickets.
Kicking bottles through posts in the backstreet.
Clutching all of our football tickets.
From dawn until dusk no dream could compete.
Hand in glove ready to catch the pig skin
With a run down the field the game is mine.
Summer days; no care for clinching a win.
I catch the ball as I jump past the line.
There’s love if you want it, from the vast stands
With imaginary crowds. Millions
Screaming like the fans for giant rock bands.
It’s time to bring out your celebrations.
Kicking, throwing, catching, dunking, hitting.
Oh child what it feels to be ball game king.