the dying of the NFL

i used to love football.

tackle

football with the guys,

from the age

of five.

for decades we played

on an empty field,

then rushed home

to watch the games.

we knew all the players

by name,

the colors of their uniforms,

their cities 

and states.

we knew statistics,

standings,

the schedule for each week.

we wore

the jerseys our heroes wore.

but then something

changed.

and we hardly cared anymore.

maybe it was the money

they made,

the bling and cars,

the narcissism

of it all,

the crimes they committed,

the wokeness

they embraced.

the tattoos and gold teeth.

the changing of all the rules.

they made

it softer, kinder, more feminine.

we often wondered

why they didn't

put the quarterback in a pink

dress, a tutu,

perhaps,

wearing a sign that reads

don't touch.

the field is not even

real grass.