My Ode to Willie Green

(Credit to Philadunkia.com for the Pic)

This has nothing to do with the current state of the NBA. Nada. But it involves this team and I did it, so it will be put up here.

I volunteered this morning, with an SPO that I belong to at Temple, to assist Saturday school at one of the city’ KIPP charter schools. Students from firth-eighth grade have two relatively easy classes with varying levels of physical and artistic activities, such as yoga, play-writing, and etiquette classes. I chose to work with what was called “slam poetry” and the play-writing classes. In the slam poetry class, the students usually have an active environment, but today they had to work on their writing skills using Shel Silverstein’s “Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout” as a basis. Being the volunteer there to assist the class, I also worked on a poem.

And because I am a sad, bitter Sixers fan, here’s what I came up with. Lame? Yes. True? Very.

There once was a man named Willie Green

Who played basketball for my favorite team.

 

His position on court was shooting guard,

And he took that designation to heart.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t all that good –

But for four years, we allowed him to start.

 

It turned out to be a terrible decision

And the main reason for all my derision.

 

He lacked any sort of noticeable ability

Aided in part by his lack of agility.

He never met a shot he wouldn’t take,

Rarely meeting one that he could actually make.

So many shots coming back to light,

Missing the rim, left and right.

Even in my mind, his actions still click

Brick after brick after brick after brick.

Yet still, he was always given a chance to stick.

Brick after brick after brick after brick.

 

Only after years and years of slackin and lackin,

Did we trade him, for a big guy named Craig Brackins.

Willie Green is gone, but not forgotten,

For his play on the Hornets is still very rotten.

And in the end, only one action should ring:

Never let your team be run by Billy King.

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