It’s the week before tournament and all through The County;
Visions of scoring hoops abound aplenty.
Offense will be swift,
Defense will be stiff,
Must remember to move their feet and not to reach
Or surely they’ll hear the ref’s whistle tweet.
Hopes are high as they wave good-bye,
Down the highway they fairly fly.
And Moms with tears held back,
Dads knowing they have to pack,
Will follow to Bangor that’s for sure
Wondering what is truly in store.
Life is put on hold
Thinking of the ball of gold,
No one knows for sure
What the final score,
But of one thing there is no doubt or fear,
They will play their hardest of the year.
Onto the court they rushed with anticipation
Happy to just be there for participation.
Up and down they ran
Hearing the cheering fan,
Under the baskets they blocked the shots
Very early they knew the three point shooter was hot.
Soon it is over, some lost, some won,
But most importantly, they all had fun,
New friends have been made,
Memories will never fade,
They played in Bangor at the Cross Center,
Nothing at this point could ever be better.
Oh; what of the gold ball for which they played?
Funny thing that, it grows dimmer,
Hard to remember who was the winner,
All the new friends that have been made,
And the memories that will never fade,
Live in their hearts and that best of all,
Is each hard player’s, true gold ball.
