Dredging the wells of sport

I thought it innocent enough,
this dart of pucks, visiting hoards,
watching, only celebrating success,
blue in makeup, but red with sorrow,
this wanting eye, perceiving weakness,
taken by need, he insults the German,
the newly crowned, but wanting 
inconspicuous knighting, for desiring
samples of straw, bread, wheat,
none to draw on silence, though it stares
at one, or a crowd drawn on beer in blue
and red, accomplished, rising above simple
admiration, taken aback by obvious
drudgery of loss, in numbers impossible
to duplicate here.

Be it insult, it was taken to be an accepting
apology later, to dispel any thought of 
sanity, flowing as though sounds had no
meaning or brothers were kin, but for
kingdoms built on bribe, stealing honesty
by force, moving friends to wherever the
trial seems best, so fast moving is life that
they all - or most - a majority wanted a different
result from life, the sport of men, women
approve of this hometown hero, he takes
his place when loss if obvious - because they
must nearly disown what has come to be.

It will gnaw at the conscience, though a 
scientist may see it in a better light, the post-
game celebration was nothing like we wanted
from the mighty slugger, who struck out -
at least this time, when beer was offered -
no, nearly forced for accepting a seat on the
thrown, not free for a second this kingly
situation, lacking aplomb, grace or an
occasion to bestow the fight to more than a
brawl, wanting to satisfy some baser instinct
for winning, though it never scarred or
stormed the gates of heaven.

 © 2016 Larry Ingram