Ode to the Friday Night Match

Because you are not the dreaded midweek game.

Where going out to support the team comes at the

Steep

         Steep

Price—sleep.

Where, despite the venti, trenta coffee cups,

Despite the Big Gulp, caffeine, pick-me-ups

The day drags and productivity is limited.

Where no amount of concealer can battle the inevitable,

“Are you felling OK,” or, “What’s wrong?”

Where halfway through the day we are torn,

Deciding whether it’s worth the time dock to leave.

Where lights are brighter, sounds are louder, and the silence never comes.

Where you, midweek game night, are cruel.

Because you save our beloved Saturdays.

Where Saturdays make the match the easiest to attend.

Where Saturday takes up most of the day.

Where Sunday mornings don’t beg for caffeine,

But encourage one more round,

And where sleeping in is a treasured moment in time.

Where the Wall and stands are alive

With old fans, new fans, friends and “rivals,”

Because traveling to the game means no time off work.

Where you, Saturday game night, are easy.

Because you help us end the long, slow week just right.

So, here’s to you, Friday game night,

The unsung

         Underrated

                  Underdog

Of game nights.

You get us through the week and end it just right.

You keep our weekends open and give us time to celebrate,

Or get over it.

You fill the stands and make our Friday night plans for us.

You save us from after-work-happy-hour-hangs

With people we can’t stand.

Because Fridays can seem as cruel as any weeknight,

And somehow a fire is reignited,

A second wind,

A second burst,

A restorative energy becomes us.

Where you, Friday game night, are majestic.