Alexander the Great: A poem by Melvin Marsh

Any good sportswriter that’s worth his salt is also an expert poem-smith and our editor thought it best that I commemorate Boise State’s win by putting pen to paper. I informed him I only use a Wellington Parker Kidder noiseless typewriter, and he conceded that would be okay as well. So without any ado, here is my humble submission—an ode to Boise’s halfback: Alexander the Great

Alexander the Great

Against a gray November sky, Alexander the Great took the field.

And a hush fell over the frigid crowd, who knew he would not yield.

He ran the ball with such gusto, t’would seem to some he’d fly.

And hurdling, stumbling, hurtling hence, the end zone drew ever nigh.

His jersey was in tatters, a local newsman quipped.

With decals torn and numbers worn and azure fabrics scratched and ripped.

But it mattered not to Alexander, whose greatness rivaled the Greek.

And all the (still hushed) citizens saw was a meteoric blue/orange streak.

With 8 to play, and a measly lead, the game fell on his shoulder

(The lead might’ve been grander but for the snapper and the holder)

The capeless hero snatched the ball and through the air he soared

And when the dust had settled, it was revealed he’d scored (and thus the crowd it roared)

The game was won and well in hand, Alexander had come through.

The title shot was in his sights, he’d just one thing left to do.

Win that title, yes of course, that thought is most bewitching

“But first”, the local newsman said, “that jersey needs some stitching!”