Gamed called.Across the field of play
the dusk has come . the hour is late.
the fight is done and lost or won,
the players files out through the gate.
the tumult dies , the cheer is hushed ,
the stands are bare , the park is still.
But through the night there shines the light ,
home beyond the silent hill.
Gamed called.When the golden light
the bugle rolled the reveille.
the shadows creep where night falls deep ,
and taps has called the end of play.
the game is done , the score is in ,
the final cheer and jeer has passed.
But in the night beyond the fight ,
the player finds his rest at last.
Game called on the field of life
the darkness gathers far and wide ,
the dream is done , the score is spun
that stands forever in the guide.
Nor victory , nor yet defeat
is chalked against the players name.
But down the roll , the final scroll ,
shows only how he played the game.
Grantland Rice 1956
With opening day fast approaching we are entering another chapter of
" Spring's Dreams "
where all are equal with dreams of champagne and glory , alive within everyone , until the dog days of summer wilts all hope.
Let's play two!
