I used to wear out a can of tennis balls pretty fast. And on a regular basis, too. I loved the game so much that, if I couldn’t find someone to play, I’d practice against a brick wall of an elementary school in a small town in Kansas.
I had the latest tennis balls, shoes, rackets, and other gear.
And I found a game as often as possible. When I say I loved tennis, I’m not exaggerating. So much, in fact, that even when I was up till 2 in the morning with my music work, I’d still meet a buddy on the court at 7 a.m.
I doubt that I would have ever been a competitor in the world arena. But I was pretty good. And I loved watching the tournaments. Especially Wimbledon.
A few years ago, as I wrote a string of poems for kids over the course of about 120 days, l imagined what it would be like for the tennis balls at Wimbledon. And I wrote a poem about it. Since that tournament is going on right now, I figured I’d share it again. So, here you go…
Tennis Ball at Wimbledon
A little yellow ball bebopping on the grass…
Rolls to the corner like it ran out of gas.
It just lays there with a frown on its face
And wishes it could bounce right out of this place.
Then a guy with a racket picks up the poor ball
As the crowd looks on…and in front of them all
He smacks the yellow ball just over a net,
But wait. You haven’t heard the worst of it yet.
A guy on the other side smacks the ball back.
They both seem ready for each other’s attack.
The little yellow ball flies high through the air
And it wonders, “Why me? This just isn’t fair.”
Then it lands on the grass with only one bounce,
And a guy leaps forward with a powerful pounce.
Once again, with a smack, the little ball flies
Back across that net, so it closes its eyes,
But it lands real close to bright white line,
As a judge says “Out!” there’s a groan and a whine.
Then the little ball rolls over into the shade,
And it thinks to itself, “Now, I’ve got it made.”
A kid comes over and picks up the little ball
While the second guy says “That was just a bad call.”
And everybody’s looking at a great big screen.
What’s this all about? What does it all mean?
The little yellow ball, with its little ball brain,
Just wished it would end and wished it would rain.
It never asked for this job, and it’s just no fun
Being a yellow tennis ball used at Wimbledon.
© 2013 Tony Funderburk
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