Sleeping Dogs - June 21 2026

 

Sleeping Dogs

June 21 2026

I root for the underdog.

Don’t we all?

For the rebels

with more passion than means.

For the social justice warriors

who know in their heart what’s right,

even though self-righteousness

can focus vision to a laser beam

scorching what it sees.

And for the last place team,

whose diehard fans

believe in miracles

  — the magical season

when the comeback kids

go from last to first.

Because under-dogs

are the vessel of hope,

and hope is never false

victory all the sweeter.

While the over-dog

weighed down by expectation

has no such dreams

  — a win

comes simply as relief.

Yet who admits

to being top dog?

Everyone, it seems, even the most privileged

has a chip on their shoulder, 

a niggling sense of envy,

a feeling life’s unfair.

As if we’re all Davids against Goliath,

underdogs

gamely challenging

the powers that be.

All rebels,

even those defending 

the status quo.

Because in a time of tumultuous change

standing still and taking a breath

can itself seem radical.

All filled with hope.

Until, that is, the moment we’re not;

neither over- nor under- ,

just sleeping dogs

lying in the sun

taking quick shallow breaths,

too exhausted by the heat

to seek out any shade.

The fateful moment

when hope abandons us,

and remaking the world

doesn’t matter anymore.

Is this another example of my subconscious emerging despite me when, like a stenographer taking dictation instead of authoring the words, I let the poem write itself? Because aside from the idea that we all naturally root for the underdog, I began without any idea what I’d say. Yet somehow, the place I end up at is despair: not the brave warrior, rebel, and reformer against the odds, but the idealist who has finally given up. Is this really where I am now: disillusioned and demoralized?

(Btw, I’m one of those diehard fans who has suffered for countless years with my team. But last season, we came within a whisker of winning it all. Only underdogs get to enjoy the extra measure of sweetness that comes with such unexpected good fortune. So this season I realized just what a burden expectation is. And now — almost halfway through, and with that expectation predictably disappointed — I’ve returned to the far more familiar terrain of hope. A lighter feeling that makes playing well good enough, and losing, easier to bear!)