GOAT

 

GOAT

 

I drove to the city my father was from,

Past farm fields and blocks of industry.

I was early and in a hurry,

Following the roads we’d taken

When Dad’s extended family met

At the country church he attended as a child.

Rain fell and I listened to a data scientist

On NPR who had done a lengthy study

To prove who had best played

Basketball in the NBA and concluded

That Mugsy Bogues when compensating

For size is the all-time GOAT.

I missed a turn, thinking about this,

Caught up in the speaker’s nerdy enthusiasm.

I took another wrong road

And a big drink of water.

I felt like a poem becoming a prose piece.

Rain continued to fall as I sped

Through the city my father was from,

Barely noticing the half-abandoned downtown.

I called my old friend on the cell.

Why don’t you get your phone to guide you?

He said. I don’t have that kind of phone.

My dad’s been dead nineteen years.

And never had a cell phone.

I thought about watching Mugsy Bogues

The one time I went to the Dean Dome,

When he almost beat Carolina by himself.

Just as I saw the meeting place ahead,

And wondered if maybe there is a world

Where he is the GOAT.