by Darcy Richardson
October 31, 2012
So he wipes of his make-up and packs up his gear.
Maybe he’ll get to collect treats next year.
He gets to the practice, a dressing room bare.
Him and two Coaches are all that is there.
For weeks they all revel in sugar and screams,
He smiles and remembers the night of his dreams.
The night they all had something better to do,
He worked with two Coaches until he was blue.
The first Tourney Day comes while they’re all fat and worn,
He’s had things to work on; this is why he was born.
The ref drops the puck as he turns them away.
Two more MVP’s the day after today.