A Poem for Saturday

I take no credit for this:

The outlook suddenly dimmed for the Pittsburgh eleven that day; The relentless Ravens lead by one point, with just two minutes left to play, When Mendenhall took a dive on first down, and on second Big Ben threw it away, A sickly silence fell upon the yellow towel wavers on that day.

 No one budged an inch from their seat. They each clung to hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, if only Big Ben could get on track -We'd put up even money, right now, with Roethlisberger at Quarterback!

But Koch had pinned the Steelers in very deep in doo-doo, and it was third and long but Big Ben was not through. He found his TE Miller and then hit the new kid Wallace, The former was a tank and the latter fast and polished; So soon that stricken multitude from their grim melancholy sprung, For it seemed for the moment that Big Ben had the Ravens on the run.

But then Ray Lewis unleashed a shot to the wonderment of all, that separated much despised Hines Ward, from helmet and the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was big old Kemoeatu laying on the ball. 

Then from 50,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled down their spine, For Big Ben, yes Big Ben, was advancing toward the goal line.

There was ease in Big Ben's manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Big Ben's bearing and a smile on his homely face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly scratched his crack, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Big Ben at Quarterback!

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he got knocked into the dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped blood on his shirt. Then while Mendenhall lay catching his breath upon the frozen ground, Defiance gleamed in Big Ben's eye,  on Big Ben's face was a frown.

And now the leather-covered oval came hurtling through the air, And Ward ran a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by sturdy Chris Carr tipped the ball over head-"That's interference," said Roethlisberger."Incomplete" the official said.

 From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore."Kill him! Kill the referee!" shouted someone on the stand; And it's likely they'd a-killed him had not Mike Tomlin raised his hand.

With a smile of home town charity- Coach Tomlin's visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the officials, and once more the "pigskin" flew; But Hines Ward got tackled by Webb and Landry, inside the Raven's two.

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Lewis and Ngata and the audience was awed. They saw Ray's face grow stern and cold, they saw Suggs muscles strain, And they knew that the Raven's D wouldn't let that ball go in.

The sneer is gone from Big Ben's lip, the hair raised on his spine; He calls with cruel voice his cadence at the scrimmage line. And now he takes the snap, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the speed of Ed Reed's flow.

 Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere there is a wedding reception; But there is no joy in Pittsburgh — Big Ben just chucked an interception.


The opinions posted here are those of the administrator of this blog and his loyal readers. They are in no way official comments from the team, and should not be misconstued as such, even though he thinks he could do just as well or even a better job!

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