BOBBY’S BROKEN DREAMS
He emerged from the determined darkness one fine fall football Friday, his body boozed to the brim and eyes saturated to the rim. Bobby blurted, “Nobody remembers me! I go to the games, I walk around, I try to talk to people, but they aren’t interested. Nobody remembers the last two years, how many yards I gained and the number of touchdowns I scored and the passes I completed. Nobody even notices me! They are watching the game.” And so Bobby cried and cursed into the mellow night. He moped, moaned, and murmured his liturgy how he had endured for the fall so he might attend the Friday football games to grant him some worth and bestow on him some significance. But the gods of time do administer their booth of toil and toll, and Bobby was rendering the lofty levy of living in the past, when youth measured accomplishment by a crowd’s cheer and savored life from a girl’s grasp.…
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