Third Place Bust-a-Rhyme Poetry Contest Winner, 2010
The Game: A Child's Class
by Britton Hollingsworth
Hustlin on the b-ball court and throwin up some bricks.
Boy you betta go to school and learn to set some picks.
Screenin to the left and then drivin to the lane,
If you get in front of me you gonna feel the pain
Learnin how to alley-oop and poppin down some shots,
Lookin at the side of the court and man those girls are hot.
Tellin myself in my head I just gotta behave,
If I'm gonna make the play I gotta focus on the game.
I jog down the court and I set up in my spot,
I role off a screen and pull my jump shot.
I knew the shot was good as soon as it left my hand.
The players on the other team can't even understand.
I stare up at the score board and see the score is tied,
I tell myself to be humble the game can be lost by my pride.
We listen to the coach as he draws up the last play.
He looks at us a yells "The game is ours today".
The seconds tick down as ball is set in play,
If anyone gets in my way they are gonna pay.
The time winds down faster and looks like there's a jam.
I pull a crossover move and throw down a monster slam.
The game is finally over and the score says that we won,
But all my friends and I knew that we were only playing for fun.
No one that stands on the court is feeling any shame.
We never beat ourselves up because we are only students of the game.