FINAL PLAY

— By Michael Jerry Tupa

Three times Smith scored that day,
a mighty showing in the fray,
but the rival ‘Dogs were still ahead,
Tech U’s coach’s face turning red,
Smith sidelined with a sprained knee
and the clock showing just 0:23.

Suddenly the Tigers got a break,
a fumble recovery by Blake
of the slippery ball stripped by Wren,
they got the football at the ten.

But coach knew hope was waning
only nine seconds remaining.

He asked for his final timeout,
stamped his feet and with a shout,
pleaded for his boys to meet the test,
to prove though battered they were the best,

Smith listened, shuddered, rose to his feet
said he wouldn’t let his team be beat,

with triumph so close within their grasp.
Coach patted Smith, and barked, with a rasp,
‘Go, git ‘em, son’, and then backed away
just as the ref said it was time to play.

Smith bravely hobbled onto the field
while twenty-five thousand fans squealed.

Each defender sneered through his nose,
they stamped their feet like angry broncos,
frantic to tackle Smith for a loss,
and to prove which squad was the boss.

The ball was snapped, the quarterback spun
Smith surged forward, a defender yelled ‘Run!’

Eleven Bulldogs fell on top of Smith,
determined to bury the stubborn myth,
their ambush planted him deep in the ground;
before they could exult, they heard the sound
unleashed by Tiger fans, roaring with joy.

Their QB had scored — Smith was his decoy.