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  • 标题:Albie Camus, MVP.
  • 作者:Stein, Allen
  • 期刊名称:Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature
  • 印刷版ISSN:1048-3756
  • 出版年度:2014
  • 期号:March
  • 语种:English
  • 出版社:Sports Literature Association
  • 摘要:
     Albie Camus, MVP     Albie watched from left field.    It was a slider, low and away,    a pitcher's pitch.    The batter, he saw, was fooled or overeager,    like most of us about many things,    and the pop-out to second finished it.    Albie trotted in, patted teammates on the back,    murmuring, "Way to confront the void with grace,"    and "Way to make your actions define your beings,"    then watched    as, world's champs for a season's worth of the planet's orbit,    they hugged each other in a heap on the infield grass.     Confetti floated down like thin leaves    in the fluorescent glare,    under the chill late October sky    and the barely noticeable indifferent stars.     Minutes later, a Fox Sports mike in his face,    Albie was asked, "A-Cam, how does it feel    to be named Series MVP?"     He knew the drill: the shrug and shy grin,    the confession that the happiness    "is hard to put into words,"    the debt owed to teammates and fans,    to mom and dad,    and (more or less optional),    to "Jesus, who makes all blessed things possible";    then a kiss blown to the wife    (perhaps a sly wink to a mistress),    a (nicely compensated) claim    that it's off to Disneyworld,    and a wave to the crowd--    a familiar ritual enactment    for a public yearning to hear    what it feels like    to be most valuable at something.     Yes, he knew the drill well,    and thus he chose instead to confront Absurdity,    as always, with lucidity.    So he told the world,    "The beauty of the game is all that matters,    for the boulders we wrestle to the crests    invariably roll back down    to the dust of eternal meaninglessness.    Old Sisyphus, who always got thrown out at the plate,    could have told you that."     The announcer, nonplussed,    stuck to the script:    "Where are you headed after this?"    praying he'd answer, "Disneyworld."    "Oblivion," Albie said.     Boos cascaded on him now.    Albie knew that there was no fate    that could not be surmounted    by courage, scorn, and profound indifference.    His convictions confirmed    by the crowd's howls of execration,    A-Cam, the World Series MVP,    trotted over to his teammates,    ready to share these moments of satisfaction    in the implacable grandeur of this fleeting existence. 

Albie Camus, MVP.


Stein, Allen


Albie Camus, MVP

   Albie watched from left field.
   It was a slider, low and away,
   a pitcher's pitch.
   The batter, he saw, was fooled or overeager,
   like most of us about many things,
   and the pop-out to second finished it.
   Albie trotted in, patted teammates on the back,
   murmuring, "Way to confront the void with grace,"
   and "Way to make your actions define your beings,"
   then watched
   as, world's champs for a season's worth of the planet's orbit,
   they hugged each other in a heap on the infield grass.

   Confetti floated down like thin leaves
   in the fluorescent glare,
   under the chill late October sky
   and the barely noticeable indifferent stars.

   Minutes later, a Fox Sports mike in his face,
   Albie was asked, "A-Cam, how does it feel
   to be named Series MVP?"

   He knew the drill: the shrug and shy grin,
   the confession that the happiness
   "is hard to put into words,"
   the debt owed to teammates and fans,
   to mom and dad,
   and (more or less optional),
   to "Jesus, who makes all blessed things possible";
   then a kiss blown to the wife
   (perhaps a sly wink to a mistress),
   a (nicely compensated) claim
   that it's off to Disneyworld,
   and a wave to the crowd--
   a familiar ritual enactment
   for a public yearning to hear
   what it feels like
   to be most valuable at something.

   Yes, he knew the drill well,
   and thus he chose instead to confront Absurdity,
   as always, with lucidity.
   So he told the world,
   "The beauty of the game is all that matters,
   for the boulders we wrestle to the crests
   invariably roll back down
   to the dust of eternal meaninglessness.
   Old Sisyphus, who always got thrown out at the plate,
   could have told you that."

   The announcer, nonplussed,
   stuck to the script:
   "Where are you headed after this?"
   praying he'd answer, "Disneyworld."
   "Oblivion," Albie said.

   Boos cascaded on him now.
   Albie knew that there was no fate
   that could not be surmounted
   by courage, scorn, and profound indifference.
   His convictions confirmed
   by the crowd's howls of execration,
   A-Cam, the World Series MVP,
   trotted over to his teammates,
   ready to share these moments of satisfaction
   in the implacable grandeur of this fleeting existence.


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