http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBJoZKe_lLw
I chose this poem because I really relate to it well. Pick up football, soccer, hockey, and baseball games were started up about every other day with the other neighborhood kids. When I first started watching this, I thought to myself, I though about how common the situation he discusses occurs; There was always the one kid for nearly every pick up game who threw a tantrum, and ruined the game. But as he goes on in the poem, he talks about how Scott, the kid throwing the tantrum, never got his way, and that was the only time he had any leverage whatsoever, the only time he had a chance to be taken seriously. Maybe that kid growing up wasn't a "cry baby"? maybe he had a really bad day? Maybe he was tired of nobody taking him seriously? Maybe we were the ones who made his day even worse, rather than him ruining ours? Maybe we should have let him have a voice.
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