I sat down yesterday and pounded out my first set of poems in a while. Writing about sports in a poetic tone has always been a challenge for me. However, after hearing a prompt about Oakland I felt about it in my heart to write about the tragedy of the A’s. Another team, stripped away from a classic American city of the west. I do not approve of it. I fear that could be the potential downfall of an SLC franchise, but I digress.
The Tragedy of Oakland
They left
Without a thought.
More brashly than packing in the middle of the night,
Into Mayflower trucks,
In blizzards,
Driving out of Baltimore.
They bought their seat at the table at the Bellagio,
No thought for Oakland.
Oakland, simply put is the Trenton of the west
A rusted city full of gnarled mettle, dreaming of a rebirth.
Instead in the bottom of the ninth
A line drive to the west
Puts the dagger in the back
Of the bright side of the bay.
Bonus Non-Sports Poem: The Satisfaction
Somewhere in Wyoming
Outside of Evanston but still miles from Rawlins
Sits a wrecked ship.
Thrown to the side of the highway by some well-meaning city planner
Who didn’t see the problem with putting a hardware store in the middle of a vast plain
Covered only by sagebrush and tall grass,
Populated by old men who went to the wilderness for wood.
The wrecked vessel is a bar now
Inside old men sip strong liquor while debating
The impending end to their own stories.
Stealing time,
Debating the best type of timber to construct
A lost souls second home with.
As they repopulate the highway with misguided dreamers, who think they can find redemption in the wilderness.