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Love of
the game
As I race down the court I drive in hard
My disadvantage, shortest of them all
Three pointer in and the flip the card
All that is on my mind is the fierce ball
The sweat drips down my face, it's a close game
Neighborhood rivals who beat us before
The loss of this game would bring us to shame
I get the ball as I look at the score
Thirty seconds left, pass it to the side
My heart pounds like the beating of a drum
Seconds race, on the line, nowhere to hide
Sweating bullets my knees are going numb
All net up by two eight seconds to last
Victory now I don't think of the past
by Vivian Verdayes
Read the story behind this poem
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