Ode to Outlaw

Who was that masked man?
Soaring above, Outlaw jam
Super Trout, I am.

Mississippi man,
Miracle in Memphis plan,
Rip City, Portland.

"Kobe who?" they ask.
Troutlaw dumps him on his back.
Steals, blocks, Trout attack!

The tomahawk slam,
Pull-up jumper, screaming fans;
Super Trout, I am.

Once there was an NBA team from Portland,
More fun to watch than any punk rawk band

They drafted a player named Roy
A coy boy in which the fans could take joy
As Kobe and the Lakers he did destroy

His ploys could be enjoyed from the grandstand
As he burned three Raptors and switched to his left hand
Ahoy! He’s Brandon Roy!

And then there’s the man for which Roy sometimes plays decoy
A Mississippi kid by the name of Travis Outlaw
Came to the NBA with a lot of hoopla

Used to have a jump shot about as appetizing as molded coleslaw
Turned his game around and hit game winners at Memphis and Atlanta, leaving us in awe

Hasn’t hit one lately but we certainly haven’t seen his last hurrah
He’s been on the team longer than any other but he ain’t no Grandpa
That title would have to go the man who’ll help us dominate LA, Phoenix, and Utah

That’s Greg Oden, number 52
Fresh outta’ college but he ain’t no gumshoe

He’s got alotta’ character…doesn’t even have a tattoo
Although he does have kind of a funny hairdo

But anyway there’s really nothing he can’t do
Because he’s you-know-who
And when we see his debut
We’ll see that all these previews ain’t nothin’ compared to the review of his pursue of a Championship ring or two.

You may be strong but his kung fu will undo any voodoo that you think you can do
You’ll be sent for a major lulu

Alright gettin’ back to the issue
It appears anyone playing the Blazers next year will need a tissue
To wipe the tears as they recognize there is no rescue
From the team that grew
Seemingly came out of the blue
And now is set for a major breakthrough

Alright hold up this poem isn’t through
Yah I know it’s not exactly Haiku
But please don’t take issue

I gotta’ give props to my boy Lamarcus Aldridge
He showed us this year he can give us some serious mileage

When Odom knocked down his boy Brandon Roy he didn’t take the garbage
Didn’t reply with language
Just gave us the privilege of watching him plummet and pillage
He’s not KG yet but just wait baby he’s the complete package

And now this modern-day poem must end
Hopefully you’ve enjoyed the words I’ve penned

From a fan to a fan, from a friend to a friend
Let’s watch our Blazers ascend

We’re seeing past wounds mend
Nate, KP, and Paul have done something we all should commend

It’s so crazy it’s hard to comprehend
The return of Rip City
the return of Portland

Do not despair, fans,
we heard you loud and clear. Next,
some championships.

the pass to Outlaw,
he drives, puts up the shot, GOOD!
TRAVIS HAS WON IT!!!!

Oh my, there go tha game…

The Blazers are good
The Lakers are bad
Oden swats Kobe
and asks “Who’s your dad?”

Fairly weak, but here goes….....

08-09 was the year it all started,
After the draft lottery we were assured a young beast,
Who has never been carded and his season ended before it all started,
So sad, so sad….....

But all was not lost as we headed for the season,
BRoy, Lemarvelous and Troutlaw were the reason,
We hit a rough patch and couldn’t win away,
But the schedule gave us Memphis on a cold blustery day…....

Inbound to Outlaw with 1.9,
Fake left, go right leaving the defender behind,
Fade back make it difficult Outlaw and his motives,
Game winner in your grill yo, hoped ya’ll noticed…...

That single game set off the streak of 13,
No more losing seasons no more drafted teens,
No more arrests, no more disrespect,
No more whipping boys, no more rejects…...

The streak may have ended but the memory is still fresh,
After that we lost more than we won, but I digress,
Rise with us our futures bright,
About to rule the West.

Between the flowers I chose
The white flowering lily,
The mysterious black dahlia,
The Portland red-blood wild rose.
Between these flowers I found
The colors of my heart,
The players for my team,
The letters by my soul.
Between the flowers I went.
Between the flowers I remain.

please don’t despair
Outlaw’s got flair
and please don’t shout
Przybilla’s got clout
yeah please don’t cry
Roy’s gonna fly
now don’t get mad
Jones is so bad
you’ll want to look twice
Webster’s shot’s so nice
and please don’t frown
Blake’s sweet from downtown
now don’t piss and moan
Jack’s in the zone
yeah don’t blow your top
without Miles’ head bop
and don’t look downcast
that’s Rodriguez’s no-look pass
and don’t you stress
Frye’s a buffet of goodness
and don’t utter those growls
LaFrentz can use his 6 fouls
please don’t be drole
Aldridge is on a roll

it began with doubt
an injury to our number one
we would bear the season out
,but we believed a playoff chance was gone
our doubts we affirmed
we we blew a blow out in philly
then the blazers luck turned
at win 10 we all looked silly

ok i don’t have anymore right now

aspirations abound as we entered the draft
Stephen A Smith gave us reason to laugh
always putting us down
well now wipe off that frown
and admit Pritchards goal is to craft

A championship squad
with good guys replete
Bob’s sand foundation
now anchored concrete
so was it Brandon Roy’s charm
or the basketball God?

the #1 pick, well who should it be?
Oden-durant?
Its up to KP.
In pritchard we trust
thats all that matters
to bring back the glory
once reduced to tatters

So get up and dance!
Get off the couch!
Everything’s romance til
pop crackle OUCH!!!444

Could it be true?
The Trail Blazer curse
did you expect expect
Sam Bowie in verse?

And so it seems
the hopes and the dreams
just another season more
but imagine the scenes
of Oden setting up screens
making it easy for Brandon to score

dont forget that winning streak
ignited by the super-freak
the gangly kid, you know
without sin….
Do Not Forget—-
“the ball went in”

In Portland the fans, for the most part it seems,
had struggled for years through terrible teams.
Wins? There were few, and everyone knew,
twas just a matter of time before the next legal stew.

Many fans fled, off the bandwagon leapt
and the games were played while the fans slept.
Mr. Allen, appalled at what he was seeing,
felt a terrible pain at the core of his being.

“I’ll sell” he cried, “I can’t stand this pain.
I’ll sell and I’ll go, I have nothing to gain.
Hmm, Macmillan, Pritchard, I’ll give them a try.
I’m tired of this regime, cause they’ll probably lie.”

Macmillan and Pritchard got together and said
"We have to save the old black, white and red.
We'll get rid of these guys and we'll keep the rest.
These guys are young but their demeanor is best."

So these two men, with guts by the gallon
Rebuilt the team with the help of Paul Allen.
And the support of the extended, whole organization
gave us back our beloved Trailblazers Nation.

And now, as fans, we gather at the Bedge
And look for postings by stevethehedge.
We wait, and we speculate bout things we hold dear
And dream bout championships starting next year.

In Portland the fans, for the most part it seems,
had struggled for years through terrible teams.
Wins? There were few, and everyone knew,
twas just a matter of time before the next legal stew.

Many fans fled, off the bandwagon leapt
and the games were played while the fans slept.
Mr. Allen, appalled at what he was seeing,
felt a terrible pain at the core of his being.

“I’ll sell” he cried, “I can’t stand this pain.
I’ll sell and I’ll go, I have nothing to gain.
Hmm, Macmillan, Pritchard, I’ll give them a try.
I’m tired of this regime because they’ll probably lie.”

Macmillan and Pritchard got together and said
“We have to save the old black, white and red.
We’ll get rid of these guys and we’ll keep the rest
These guys are young but their demeanor is best.

So these two men, with guts by the gallon
Rebuilt the team with the help of Paul Allen.
And the support of the extended, whole organization
gave us back our beloved Blazers Nation.

And now, as fans, we gather at the Bedge
And look for postings by stevethehedge.
We wait, and we speculate bout things we hold dear
And dream bout championships starting next year.

There was a rich sovereign,
Lord Allen was his name.
His kingdom was vast,
And difficult to maintain.

He paid the highest bounties
To mercenaries grand.
To defend his kingdom
From every evil hand.

But the hired steel failed him
Poor armies did they make.
They cared more for gold and treasures,
Then the words to them he spake.

Rivals pressed him soundly,
His hired armies balked.
No victories they won him,
All those men, they walked. ...All those men, they walked.

Desperate, the King sent Pritchard,
A tactician of greatest skill,
To search among the people,
And find a warrior’s will.

He preached of combat and of glory,
All ready for the taking.
But people laughed and shunned him,
Quite nearly his will breaking.

But one, yea one brave soul
Listened to his offers.
A young fencer named Brandon
Stood out among the scoffers.

“I will fight for thee and my liege,”
He said with utmost pride.
Pritchard’s Army grew by one
With a swordsman by his side. ...With a swordsman by his side.

Still, the laughter yet continued
“Ye can’t go to battle with a child!”
But Pritchard kept recruiting,
Though they thought him a little wild.

A pikeman name LaMarcus
Soon joined the tiny band,
As did Martell the archer,
Known for his steady hand

Lord Allen’s strength was growing,
Though his army numbered few.
But people began to rally,
And take up his cause anew.

Jarrett’s cavalry came to Pritchard,
Always quick to charge.
And next was Travis and his claymore,
His blade was very large. ...His blade was very large.

Still, while they acknowledged
That this army had potential.
There was something still that they were missing,
Something quite essential.

Then one summer day
Pritchard could not believe his luck.
A giant axeman came to him
Who fell each tree he struck.

Oden was his surname,
But he went by the name of Greg.
He was a big as the trees themselves,
And that was just his leg.

With a giant such as him,
All would flee in fear.
King Allen would be victorious,
Surely the day drew near. ...Surely the day drew near.

Soon joined many others,
Seeing the sight of the giant.
They came in droves to sign
And no longer were defiant.

Joel the brawler quickly added
Needed muscle to the group.
Steve the forest ranger
Could shoot arrows through a hoop.

Sergio the Spaniard came from afar,
Brandishing a rapier as quick as his wit.
Even when things didn’t go well,
He adamantly refused to quit.

James the smithy forged
Weapons for them to use.
Channing the baker cooked
A buffet which to peruse. ...A buffet which to peruse.

Raef the grizzled veteran
Gave the best of all advice.
Josh, the son of the Duke
Was so eager he signed up thrice.

There even arrived
A Baron from the East.
He went by the name of Von,
They say he was a beast.

Allen sent a general,
He was by far his very best.
To these youngsters out Nate went,
They were never better blessed.

Pritchard had assembled
A crew with amazing talent.
But they were still yet green,
Even if all were gallant. ...Even if all were gallant.

Still, many said that the crew
Would go far with that Oden.
He was worth a hundred soldiers,
His arrival was a good omen.

But before the campaign even began,
A stray arrow struck Oden’s knee.
The giant fell crippled to the ground,
And most allies began to flee.

But Nate’s iron resolve,
And Brandon’s will to win,
Brought those who were yet left
Off to do battle again.

Undermanned and underpowered,
Allen’s army went to fight.
But after each hasty retreat
It was hard to see the light. ...It was hard to see the light.

Loss after loss, the army fell behind,
They had given more ground than they gain.
If this kept up much longer,
Lord Allen would have naught over which to reign.

Steel clashed and horses brayed,
The noise of war surrounded.
But before this last retreat could happen,
The horn to charge was sounded.

Travis’ claymore cut though the enemy lines,
He beat them back by his own hand.
At the very last second they won,
This time they had saved their land.

Such a victory was won that day,
That they continued just as great.
Battle after battle they conquered,
And they won thirteen straight. ...And they won thirteen straight.

Confident they battled on,
Their winning most improbable.
But some began to wonder,
“Are they utterly unstoppable?”

As the campaign trudged onwards,
Hope and sorrow were mixed together.
Winning and losing both were present,
The men were as predictable as weather.

But at the end of the year,
It was obvious to see,
That they were back where they began:
A loss for each victory.

Some may see it as failure,
But much did the green soldiers grow.
The experience of battle was gained,
A great deal more did they know. ...A great deal more did they know.

Brandon’s blade is quicker still.
LaMarcus’ pike is much more strong.
Martell’s arrows are truer yet.
Travis’ sword elicits many a song.

Pritchard still is gathering
Soldiers to join the fray.
Nate is still teaching,
Those under him to obey.

Next year’s campaign is coming up soon,
And the troops are now seasoned.
But there is even more hope for next time,
And the cause is quite well reasoned.

As they returned to Allen’s castle to rest
And recover from their fight,
There stood the axeman Greg,
And his knee looks alright. ...And his knee looks alright.

Ye have heard their tale this day,
And be ye sharp appraisers.
Remember always these young one’s names.
These are the Portland Trail Blazers.

I wrote this in December and posted on a Fanpost, but I liked it so much I figured I’d resubmit it here for consideration:

A Visit from Brandon Roy

Twas the hour before gametime, and all through the garden,
A team was emerging, resolve starting to harden.

The jerseys were hung, by the lockers with care,
With the hope that Greg Oden, soon his would wear.

The fans were all settled down into their seats,
With visions of winning, prompting faster heart-beats.

With Prichard at courtside, and Nate on the bench,
Faithful all were relaxing, nerves starting to unclench.

When out on the court, there arose such a clamor,
A thunderous dunk, with which the crowd was enamored.

Away to the scoreboard, all eyes flew with a flash,
To catch the great replay, of our foes getting trashed.

The lights up above, lit up brightly below,
The spectacular dawning, of a new kind of show!

When scarce to behold, not much more than a boy,
Came the new Blazer leader, his name: Brandon Roy.

More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name:

Now! Joel, now! James, now! Steve and LaMarcus!
On! Jarret, on! Sergio, on! Martell and Travis!

“To the top of the League! To the Top of the World!
Now dash away all, let’s get those banners unfurled!”

So up, up the standings, our Blazers they flew,
With each game it seemed they achieved something new.

And then with a twinkling, came that magical day,
When once more the Blazers were playing in May!

As the city of Portland once more lifted its head,
Finding that to the playoffs its team now would head.

But the players, they scoffed, “This was never enough!
Now’s the time when the games only start to get tough!”

“We’ve all got ten fingers, by our count of things,
It’s time to get busy, and fill them with rings!”

before GO went down (last summer sometime) . It will still work

There once was a town by the river

with 3 big ballers who make everyone shiver

guys would bite on the fake

and die on the break and

lay on the floor and just quiver

on the floor is a team who will beat you
the mood is all that we’ve been dreaming of
the games arent fixed so we’re rife* for the winnings
I think that draft pick’s—LOVE!!!!

I know a place where this can go!!!!!!

What was once a city of
joy, fellowship, community,
became only
a game.

No longer needed, only
a distraction.
Sometimes,
an embarresment.
The city crumbled.

But then a return.
Sudden, unexpected, welcome.
Redemption rising.

Love, sacrifice
exuberance, perseverance,
unity

Rip City rebuilt
on the pillars of
youth.

that you can use the action thingy at the bottom of each post to recommend your favorites. I did find out that I can’t vote for my own. Er, not that I would do that or anything. However, Amlmart1’s piece and Majik9n’s Christmas letter got votes from me. You can vote too! Kind of. (shameless voting plug ends)

Przybilla?
Przybill-duh!
Frequently hugging, foul shooting foul shooter.
Practice your free throws, and your stroke?
From starter to back up, to back up to starter.
Greg Oden is hurt, Frye is so soft.
Steel nerves and steel hands.
LeBron!
Why!
One-Two, Frye-Pryz, switcheroo.
Dunketh thy ball Joel!
Forty-one wins.
Should have been forty-two.

The Stadium Rose

to its feet. The crowd leapt up,
hammered the stands to beat out, in unison,
in singsong rhythm, the cheer for
a surefire win.

It’s all o-ver.
It’s all o-ver.

I was there, in the nosebleeds, dancing for the camera.

A small girl waved a red foam hand in the air,
perched on her father’s shoulders.

At the coliseum stop, the streetcar filled and emptied.
The stadium filled and emptied. Bright, red jerseys emerged
out of dark wool coats to show heart through the winter.

At home, a magnet pins the cover page
of the paper to my fridge, Oden’s sprawling life-
size hand. I fit my hand in his wide palm.

I remember December. We were all there.

Joel tucked in, absorbing the charge. Roy driving home
a reverse layup through Bosh. Steve Blake.
Steve. Blake. I was there.

LA was the new Portland. Martell gave them
hell. In overtime, Trout killed the clock.
And we cheered.

Here, at the end of the night,
at the end of the season, the sweep is done.
The vendors have wiped down the taps, locked up
their stalls, and the halls, once filled with the electric snap
of a city on fire, are empty.

But the young team rose, and with them,
a city lit up, gleaming in wet street light glow,
carried us, higher still, on its shoulders,
where we waved, gladly, and at home.

We, began this season,
With foreboding and doubt;
For alas, this year,
Young Oden, with-out.

What were we to do?
The doubts started to reign;
Was this, ‘the’ descision?
Or was Pritchard insane?

The feeling soon passed,
We took a deep breath;
Our hearts started receding,
Back into our chests.

The season continued,
we started to see;
That, Roy, Aldridge, Pryzbilla,
Just to name three.

Were better than last year,
Roy, greatly improved;
Then, Travis, Web, Jones,
We began to be moved.

The whole month of December,
The word started to leak;
No longer on anyone,
could we longer sneak.

We earned much respect,
We came back to earth;
Then B-roy he earned,
his first all Star berth.

The rest of the season;
We won some, we lost;
Injuries happened,
the playoffs were tossed.

But no one should worry,
Be calm, never fear;
We’ve got Oden back,
Just wait til next year.

We’ll better 500,
Post season We’ll reach;
Blazer fans best get ready,
Cause Oden’s a Beast!

first thing this morning and up out of bed
cats are meowing
they wanna be fed

get them off my case
then visit the Bedge
to see TDark took it
a bet not to hedge

no word from Da man
to announce the rout
with all the server angst lately
I supose benefit of doubt

But when I get home
cats swirling ‘round feet
scoreboard says Epic
to great to defeat

No shame in that
all in good fun
another shining example
of Trail Blazer fandom

The Assistant Coach

I have never coached the Blazers,
but it is as if I did.
My soul is like a coach.
It knows both baselines, the lockers
and whirlpool, and slaps a hand
in passing against the backboard.
All the empty dry-erase clipboards
wait at my side.
But I see as the season ends
a confusion of hands in the bleachers
of our imagination and sense
the myriad Blazer lids
flutter before sleeping.

Look closely, and Roy
is a swarm of gnats.
You try to grab his jersey,
but it’s gnats too, who scatter
at your hand’s approach.
On of them feeds
on your sandwich.

Yet ours is an encouraging confusion
because its volume and pitch
should fill the stadium
and leak out the exits
to stir the waters of the fountains of the city
clear of Qyntel Woods.

Like the sound of sneakers
squeaking at the elbow
my thoughts are coordinated.
My only regret is that I understand their training,
since if I didn’t
they would be coordinated and astounding
instead of coordinated and with terrific upside.

Webster at the keys
plays a b#, and a restaurant
explodes. Whole chords:
the library is incinerated,
the jewelers district
ash. Perhaps the future
is nothing if not noise,
destruction, injustice.
It’s my job to get up
from a folding chair
and gesture toward the floor
with my palms down: "Easy,"
I say, "Take it easy."

Coaching is a discomfort, like eating in the rain.

I have no further aspiration, no home life to speak of.
To be a poet is not my aspiration,
but a way of staying on the court.

And if sometimes, in my daydreams,
I wish to be a small forward
(or to be the whole lineup
so as to be scattered around the court
as many talented things at the same time),
it is only because I feel what I coach
as when the zone collapses
and three sets of hands
send Andre Igoudala to the floor.

When I sit at my desk
or pace the sideline jotting
verses on a chalkboard in my mind,
I feel a stick of chalk in my hand
and see my own face
looking over my shoulder at the players,
and smiling crooked, like a person
who doesn’t see the differences
between Xs and people
but pretends he does.

It is not on record that
at the close of the 2006-07 season
during a meeting with KP
I suggested that, assuming he is available
in the second round, we draft Glen Davis
and dub our front line: ‘The Twin Babies.’
"Canzano won’t like it," KP said,
"But never, not once, have I been convinced
by John Canzano’s moral posturing." We both
laughed and said "culture" a few times.

Once in the doorway
of a fixed-income apartment building
I encountered a nativity scene.
Joseph was Arvydas Sabonis.
The three wise men: Damon Stoudamire,
Jeff McInnis, Antonio Daniels.
Mary was Chris Dudley.
I stared at the cradle in disbelief.
Oden.

I five all who may read me,
hiking my slacks until McMillan
enters the room and nods.
I five the players in victory and in defeat,
and send them home with a few words
about keeping a deep stance.

As you read my poems, I hope
you think of me as some piece of equipment—
that rosin bag, for example,
whose dust prepares the hands
to fulfill despite sweating
one’s agile thoughts, which are Blazers.

Sorry mine’s a little late…tried to post it yesterday, but the server was down.