Poem #3 - A Grand Slam

Satisfying is nothing more,
And never a bore,
Than watching an exciting match at a Grand Slam,
Between the #2 and the #4 ranked player,
You know it won't be done in a cram.
 
The first set is tight,
The score is 6-6,
And off we are to a tie-breaker,
Oh, expect a fight,
To see who will be the taker.

Watching the underdog somehow pull through,
It is indeed once in a moon blue,
But that is the dream of a tennis fan,
Knowing with determination and soul,
One can,
Indeed pull ahead,
And add to one's cred,
That one deserves a final to win,
And move to the next round,
With your arms up in the air,
And a big, wide grin.

The start of the second set,
The opponent tries a different tactic,
And this time won't let,
Won't fall for the same trick,
And of the set let go,
For if he did,
It would indeed be a major blow.

Now in the 3rd set,
It's a coin toss,
But the underdog manages to come on top,
One more,
He thinks,
I must not let it drop.

The 4th leads to a tie-breaker one more,
The opponent pumps his fist,
Even though he is sore,
And manages a win,
Oh, how he would like to add this match,
To his winning list.

Oh, how wild goes the crowd,
Very noisy and loud,
The umpire for quiet he requests,
So that the players can focus on the 5th set,
And not make a mess.

The underdog once more fights,
With all the energy and heart he can muster,
A tennis fan would know,
His performance lacks no luster.
And somehow he finds himself in a position,
To serve for the match,
And there he is,
Just one remaining point,
Down the middle an ace,
And voila,
He has finished the race.


The End