An ode to the sports mom (or dad)

I log many hours at the wheel of my car,
I drive you to games that are near and are far,
I lend you some comfort when you are in pain,
I sit through your games in the cold, driving rain.
I follow the rules of inscrutable sports,
I pre-treat the stains that you get on your shorts,
I empty the checking account for your fees,
And patch up your pants when you go through the knees.
I moan your despairs and I cheer for your feats,
I vacuum up crud you track in on your cleats,
I sit in the parking lot during your drills,
Bite my tongue during dust-ups and bruises and spills.
I doctor your wounds to avoid their infection,
Then I’m off to the sporting goods store for “protection”,
For all that I do, I merely exhort you,
To remember the numerous ways I “support” you.

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