The stock market has price/earnings ratios. In real estate, it's location. And in the world of spectator sports, one element drives the market: hope. With that in mind, (and with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer) we offer up this early-September preamble to the new NFL season:
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The season hadn't gone well for the Broncos now through threeThey'd lost badly in Seattle, and been humbled by IndyAnd when Knowsbon coughed the ball up, and Bailey tweaked his kneeDespair began to burble in Section 103Though hope had sprung eternal across the jerseyed massesThey'd seen far too many miscues, and errant Orton passesStill, deep inside, in silence, eighty-thousand shared one thought:If Tebow dons his helmet, we might just have a shotBut a first down was negated by a lousy offside callAnd Gaffney, like a rookie, dropped an easy gimme ballAnd with just one minute on the clock, and facing third and 10It seemed apparent to the faithful. We were bound to lose againBut an unexpected draw play caught two linebackers off-guardAnd a long-forgotten fullback earned the first down by a yardThe opponents still had 1 3, and the Broncos still had nineWhen over on the sideline, McDaniels called for time.Then seemingly from nowhere, the crowd began to roarIt started in the South Stands, near section 234Where attentive fans had noticed a new player on the sceneHe was shorter than the others. And his number was 15.There was purpose in his gait as he trotted to the huddleThere was poise in his demeanor, and the defense now smelled troubleFrom the cheap seats to the boxes, fresh hope had been restoredFor Tim was on the field, clad predominately in orangeEighty-thousand strong arose as the linemen took their placesThere was fury in their voices, and faith upon their facesThey glanced once at the scoreboard, and clenched their knotted fistsAs Tebow harked the play out from a cheat sheet on his wristOh, a quick efficient handoff would surely get the offense goingA safe and easy offering to get the rookie's juices flowingBut the team had something else in mind. For there would be no run.Tebow had backed up five steps. The kid was in the gun.The play the coach had scripted was a pass play wide and longBut the tight end badly stumbled, and the timing was all wrongAnd when Tebow let the leather fly, the crowd became dejectedFor it seemed the pass was certain to be quickly interceptedBut look! Straight out of nowhere, came Denver's Eddie RoyalBearing down on the defender, and determined now to spoilThe lousy lucky play that seemed sure to end this Sunday danceAnd yes! Eddie delivered. And yes! There was a chance.But the seconds seemed like minutes as the game clock now ticked downThe tension cracked like thunder through the roaring of the crowdThe time was fast receding, two seconds left was allWhen finally, in a nick of time, the center hiked the ballAs if players in a Shakespeare scene the lineman took their cuesIn lockstep they maneuvered and in unison they movedThey shifted left, all five of them, in a stout and trenchant wallAs Tebow, now protected, prepared to throw the ballHe stood noble as a statue, in warrior-like poseAs players raced downfield and the crowd noise swelled and roseAnd the quarterback drew back his arm and let the football flyAnd time seemed now suspended as the game clock read :05Oh, Sundays come and Sundays go, and each season starts anewAnd verdant football parking lots emit a scent of barbecueAnd fans proudly wear their colors as they high-five theirfaithful friends ...But you'll have to wait, oh sports fan, to see how this story ends
Stewart Schley writes about sports, media and technology from Denver. Read this and Schley's past columns on the Web at cobizmag.com and e-mail him at stewart@stewartschley.com
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