Cliche Poem

It was raining cats and dogs on a Thursday winter morning.
The day tryouts came I rushed out of my house like a rushing racehorse
With horseshoes tighter than two coats of paint.
I stumbled across the Field...
The players were already settled into their places...
The first drill had already begun.
I eased my way through the drill...
Passing with flying colors.
No time to catch my breath...
The coach had already blew his whistle...
Time for a second round of laps.
Some participants were already lying down like beached whales.
The coach blows his whistle early...
He rounds us up and tells us words of advice...
"Through the sands of time I let sports slip through my fingers...
Until I learned to take what I cosumed both mentally and physically
to teach adoloescents how to work as a team."
He started to call names one by one...
Caroline, Marsha, April...
Confusion was obvious through my facial expressions...
I had made the team.
Hearing my name was like music to my ears.
I had learned two things that morning...
try your best no matter what and never let
anyone steal your thunder.
I had earned two victories that day.