Football in America
Football in America
Is a difficult thing.
It’s an actual event
When wearing an Arsenal shirt
(I own several, a polo and a warmup besides)
I’m surprised when a gent
Shouts at me “Go Gunners!”
Truly, it’s surprising.
Football in America means one sort,
The kind played with a ball not round.
Not the beautiful game, mind you
But the ignoble, concussion-prone game.
We form a sort of secret society,
A cabal even, of those “in the know,”
Who can separate football from just
The World Cup and Barcelona,
Who know, for example,
Who plays striker for West Ham,
Or left back for Hertha?
Football in America is Clint Dempsey
Landon or Robbie,
The latter of whom attracts interest
Because of his sexuality.
(Which should not matter)
The MLS not yet taken seriously
Seattle and KC the only *real* football cities,
The rest of us just waiting.
So we watch what EPL matches we can,
We wait for Comcast et al to catch up,
Air more EPL, La Liga, Bundesliga matches —
(Seriously, you could do that),
And rejoice just when randos in the grocery store
Or, in my case, the library,
Comment on a football shirt or a tattoo;
I have two of Arsenal btw.
Both carried with pride.
Football in America is empty
A matter of admiring a club from another country
Wishing to be a citizen, yet never to be one.
