i want to run a four-two forty. i want to be a deep threat. i want to meekly tiptoe out of bounds. as you flail into the gatorade. i want to catch everything thrown in my direction. i want you to throw the pig bladder as far as you can. while i sprint as fast as i can. while people ooh and aah and hold their breath. while i dive for a thrilling touchdown. a hundred and ten yards down the field.



i want to wear thick padding and tight pants. and be crowned with a helmet. two sizes too big for my slender neck. i want a breathe right nasal strip. i want cleats that grip really really well. i want to wear eye black. to look mean. and to keep the glare out of my eyes. i want to be paid millions to catch two balls a game. i want to be that prima donna. sitting on the bench. with the towel over my head. i want band-aids for all my ow-wies. and yours too. i want to have two good knees. i want to have a cool nickname. like prime time. i want to be posterized. i want you to slap my butt when i do something good. i want to go one on one with your best cover corner. i want to zig when you think i'll zag. i want to be a transcendent talent. i want to have bars of metal in front of my face . for protection. and if you get too close. the refs will call face masking. everytime.



dont chop block me. or bump and run me. i'll get mad.



i want to take every other play off. i want to stay out of the trenches. i want to avoid the beast lurking over the line of scrimmage. waiting to take my head off. i'm not going over the middle. i'm not a possession type of guy. i want to dance and taunt you. after i've burned you. i want everyone to be chasing me. just because i have the ball. i want to be on the cover. of oversized magazines. in the game of life. i want to pray hail marys. on every play. i want us to beat them. i want to go to the highest bidder. i want there to be bidders period. i want to retire when i'm twenty seven. at the top of my game. to a life of luxury and indulgence. i want the coach to scream "run faster you sonofabitch!" i want the sideline reporter to ask after the games. "how did you do it?"



i want to stop writing shit with so many "i"s.