FANTASY FOOTBALL: 1950'S VERSION*

It was easier, then, to have heroes.
Take, for example, Steve Van Buren,
who lugged the pigskin
(that's how sportswriters wrote
back in the fifties) for the Philadelphia
Eagles. There were no pre or
post game interviews to expose
the ignorance of the
inarticulate. For all I knew
Steve Van Buren was a paragon
of wisdom and virtue. If you
had asked me, I'd have told
you he was, of course he was.

I never saw him play. It never
occurred to me to ask my father
to take me to a game. I do not
recall ever seeing a photograph
of Steve Van Buren. But when
the radio announcer screamed
that he was dashing down the side
line like he had a Roman candle
on his tail, I could see it as
truly as if I had a seat
on the fifty yard line. If you
had asked me: what, exactly, is
a Roman candle? I would have told
you I had no idea.

*Some time after writing this poem, I learned that Mr. Van Buren is a resident at the retirement community where my brother lives. We visited him and I gave him a copy of the poem. He thanked me and told me he liked what I had written.