Goalie

Out there in the mid-field,
It's anyone's ball game.
You just gotta go for the ball, man.
Ain't no other way.

But, man,
When we come at you with twelve cleats,
And you just stare us down with two big hands and two quick feet,
We back down.

Ain't nobody in the room
With hands like yours;
Ain't nobody gonna pull her
From your hands, man.

We all just run away,
As you hold that checkered black-white globe with both your hands,
And contemplate your moment,
Before the kick-off.