The Gridiron Tales

On the locker room floor they kneeled, heads bowed,

Sweat draping the air like a rancid shroud.

Grunts of excursion they only would utter,

Pain and glory were their bread and butter.

Physical specimens; showcase their prime,

Beasts from children, fed on dreams of this time.

They rose at once, the task no longer nigh,

The walls shook as they screamed their war cry.

First from the room went the Quarterback,

A fan base of many he did not lack.

His team he led with much stealth and valor,

Though his income caused owners to cower.

Those eyes of cold blue steel viewed all around,

With quickness, he seemed, to not touch the ground.

The cadence was called, gravely and strong,

He never admitted to doing wrong.

After he, came the Defensive End,

Brimmed with anger he was no man's friend.

A sentry he stood, there laying in wait,

Delivering hits with ferocity great.

His eyes observant, reflexes quick,

His very presence made opponents sick.

He was not slight of foot, nor great in size,

His heart was what brought his foes to demise.

The third in line was the hallowed Wideout,

With the speed of a stallion he runs his route.

Hands like velvet, he never drops the ball,

Through his publicist, he took not a fall.

He caused many a defense plenty of grief,

This he accredited to his firm belief.

He claimed to be a true holy man,

But disappeared when sought out by his fans.

Followed was he by the noble Kicker,

His shaven