Reflexive or astute to what they’ve known
Ignoring descriptions of what has grown
Knees jerk back from some calls for greater parity
Prizing the glamour made great by its rarity.
Alert, we spoiled by these wild ends!
Perhaps some amends on some funny scale
For those who once claimed this system would fail.
Eight-team playoffs? The kids would grow inured
With drama secured. Well, maybe I did.
Immature, yet too old to be a kid,
I try to track, screen and attention split.
Yet this isn’t it, whatever they say.
At least there will be playoffs yet to play.
And maybe more. So with one ear I am
Hearing a grand slam, the other keyboards’ click.
The data blurs and who knows what will stick?
The kid who jumped to books’ final pages
At many ages, fearing being burned
Still does to check the tone. But I have learned
That this strategy only goes so far.
Whoever you are, you can’t understand
It all till you’ve read what comes beforehand.
The fall before the rise, or rise, for fall.
Some give their all for obvious reasons
And some plan ahead to other seasons
And some dealing with rivals by proxy
Perhaps less moxie in this final spurt?
And some are none of these. Spoilers, alert.