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Linebacker

You prattle on about the beauty of the game,

the symphony of Montana to Rice,

the jitterbug of Sanders,

the ballet of Swann.

But beauty is

Linebacker

A terror in black and gold with scraggly blond hair and missing teeth,

Vampire in cleats.

Snot bubbles, taped hands covered in mud and blood.

It’s in the names

Butkus

Nitschke

Urlacher.

Linebacker is primal force unleashed, number 56 in blue and white, launching into fragile 7 with his little-boy-looking one-bar face mask with all the energy of a typhoon, Rest in peace, Mr. Quarterback!

Sure, buddy, let your son play quarterback,

Mine will play Linebacker!

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Categories: Poetry
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