Different children have different aspirations. One becomes a jockey and trains race horses. Another becomes a football/liockey player. But the poet hates to enter the ring as a boxer. One can be defender or tackier or center. The poet is glad he is not one of the players and they are not him. Though he admires the pomp and show, he detests the brutality evident in the injuries inflicted on the players. The poet admires athletes who maim each other as they romp. Zealous admirers play rough and beat one another. In a bid to win laurels they are least bothered about others’ pain. When an athlete is badly hurt, the voice seeking a doctor is respected by the poet. The poet admits his readiness to share a drink with the players and buy tickets as expensive as radium just to ensure he is just a spectator and not players.