a hero?

They built a hero out of expectations
and what a hopeless hero was he
with sticks for legs
he shook when the wind blew,
even slightly
and he welcomed the smiles,
he welcomed the applause
and he hoped that they'd
never forget just who they thought
he was.
M.N.

It's weird how good writers can manage to capture your feelings perfectly by writing about their own. I listened to this on the bus last night (several times) just replaying this one part. Sometimes it shocks me how much he doesnt know me. I mean yes, he knows my batting average, my stealing average, my error average, how fast I can get to first base, and OF COURSE, how well I compare to others. But is all this stuff really going to matter when I grow up to NOT be a professional softball player? I wonder if he knows that I never want to pick up a softball (while on his team) ever again. together, we've worked so hard for my whole life on JUST this game, nothing else. And for what, to get closer? to prove something? I'm sure it wasn't to just throw it all away at 16. I wish, more then anything in the world that my dad could see me as a PERSON rather then a player, know the simple things, the important things. but really, who am I kidding?