Kings alone and kings in peril,
In castles with porous gates of harrow,
Lurking lines of steel outside,
On alert atop their stallions astride,
 
Sentries of ill begotten battle equipped
At the gates around the king unfit,
With hopes of keeping the castle intact,
Fight with every effort to hold them back.
 
With hell-bent armies climbing up the walls
And catapults firing cannon balls,
The battle rages and the gates fall down;
So it’s hail to another king and another crown.
 
As kings and quarterbacks meet their fates,
Something’s missing at the ragged gates.
As the onrushing troops storm the castle,
They rush into the quarters amid the hassle.
 
Football and armies are in the same game.
Sentries fall down and kings take the blame.
Quarterbacks fall with nothing up front
And take the blame as the prey for the hunt.
 
In history books about games and war,
Kings and quarterbacks are of the same lore.
Judged upon what they did and what they didn’t,
Go down in history in reputation and in print
As failures or conquerors as battles brew.
’Tis the life in renown of the subjected two.

I wrote this thinking about the NY Giant's offensive line.

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