Wednesday, March 24, 2010


March Madness lasts for such a short time. I cannot believe that we're already down to the 'Sweet 16' round - eliminating 48 of the 64 teams which originally started. (That stat is courtesy of my husband, Glen.)

And what a year this has been! Glen and I have already lost our National Champion in our brackets (Kansas) - what a game! Neither of us begrudge Kansas' loss to Northern Iowa. UNI is almost a home team for us. We met and married in Waterloo/Cedar Falls - Glen was on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ at UNI and I was working for KWWL-TV.

It's the upsets that make the tournament so fascinating - and picking the right ones this year has been hard. Anna's done the best - she picked Murray State over Vanderbuilt. I remember her asking me, "Does a 13 ever beat a 4? Does a 12 ever beat a 5?" I said, "Yes, that has happened, but it doesn't happen often." I think Anna wins our pool of picking the most upsets correctly.

But none of us ever thought that UNI would knock Kansas out of the tournament in the second round.

Just writing about the games makes me excited! My poem this week is a long one - but a great one about basketball. I found it in the library, a book unto itself. I think it captures the feel of the game wonderfully well.


By Robert Burleigh


The game.

Feel it.

The rough roundness.

The ball

like a piece

of the thin long reach

of your body.

The way it answers whenever you call.

The never-stop back and forth flow,

like tides going in, going out.

The smooth,

skaterly glide

and sudden swerve.

The sideways slip

Through a moment of narrow space.

The cool.

The into

and under

and up.

The feathery fingertip roll

and soft slow drop.

Feel your throat on fire.

Feel the asphalt burning beneath your shoes.

The two-of-you rhythm.

The know-where-everyone-is without having to look.

The watching

and waiting

to poke

and pounce.

The fox on the lurk.

The hunger.

The leap from the pack.

The out-in-the-clear

like a stallion

with wind in your face.

The bent legs tense

as the missed shot swirls

and silently spins.

The hawk.

your arm shooting up

through a thicket of arms.

The lean

and brush

and burst free.

The skittery,

cat-footed dance

along the baseline.

The taste

for the rock in your hands

when it counts the most.

The weight of you

hanging from fine,

invisible threads.

The eyes.

The arc.

The no-sound

sound of the ball

as it sinks

through nothing but still,

pure air.



The game.

Feel it.

poetry wednesday!
Picture courtesy of


Beth said...

I always forget you lived in our neck of the woods. Oh Iowa. I also love the sports/basketball themed poems. Have I mentioned that I was my father's son?

Also wanted to let you know that we received our referral yesterday for a beautiful six-month-year old girl who were are calling Lucia.

Molly Sabourin said...


That awesome poem ALMOST makes me appreciate basketball! : ) What Troy would give for me to talk about any sport so enthusiastically. It was great to spend time with your family this past weekend!

Kris Livovich said...

Enjoyed the poem - am still not feeling basketball. Our house is not a sports house, not by my doing, my husband is just not a sports guy (for which I breathe a giant sigh of relief!).

Michelle said...

We're not a huge sports house - except NCAA tournament. We like to watch football on Sundays too, but that's about it. I think my brother watches more sports than we do! :)

But we do love our NCAA tourney - especially this year.