The poet's spirit enjoys

One infant grows up and becomes a jockey;     Another plays basketball or hockey,     This one the prize ring hates to enter     That one becomes a tackle or center,     I am just as glad as glad can be     That I'm not them, that they're not me.     With all my heart do I admire     Athletes who sweat for fun or hire,     Who take the field in gaudy pomp,     And maim each other as they romp,     My limp and bashful spirit feeds     On other people's heroic deeds.     Now A runs ninety yards to score,     B knocks the champion to the floor.     C risking vertebrae and spine,  ... Show more

One infant grows up and becomes a jockey;    
Another plays basketball or hockey,    
This one the prize ring hates to enter    
That one becomes a tackle or center,    
I am just as glad as glad can be    
That I'm not them, that they're not me.    
With all my heart do I admire    
Athletes who sweat for fun or hire,    
Who take the field in gaudy pomp,    
And maim each other as they romp,    
My limp and bashful spirit feeds    
On other people's heroic deeds.    
Now A runs ninety yards to score,    
B knocks the champion to the floor.    
C risking vertebrae and spine,    
Lashes his steed across the line,    
You'd think my ego it would please    
To swap positions with one of these.    
Well, ego might be pleased enough,    
But zealous athletes play so rough,    
They do not ever, in their dealings    
Consider one another's feelings.    
I'm glad that when my struggle begins    
Twixt prudence and ego, prudence wins.    
Athletes, I'll drink to you    
Or eat with you,    
Or anything except compete with you,    
Buy tickets worth their weight in radium,    
To watch you gambol in a stadium.    
And reassure myself anew    
That you're not me and I'm not you.    
— Ogden Nash    

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