Sweat dripping from the face
The shoes constantly squeaking
“Get the ball, Get the ball” is all that’s going through my mind
I have to get it right this time
I have to win, or else my father will be disappointed
I’m tired of letting him down,
Looking in the stands and seeing him frown
“You never get it right!” He always says,
Be a man, Be a man! He constantly screams
I wished I’d wake up from this terrible dream
The buzzer rings, echoing far out
I look back one last time
His face filled with doubt
Oh if looks could kill