In the arena where echoes danced,
With every serve and volley, he sought to enhance.
Ben Johns, the champion, under the bright lights,
A legend in motion, soaring to new heights.
The court, a canvas for his artistry bold,
Each point he commanded, a story untold.
With paddle in hand, and fire in his heart,
He painted his legacy, a beautiful art.
Grit and grace intertwined in his game,
With passion that burned like an eternal flame.
A titan of pickleball, he carved out a niche,
In the hearts of the faithful, a dream he’d bequeath.
Yet life, in its whims, can be cruel, can deceive,
On a day like any other, it whispered, “Believe.”
But fate had its plans, shrouded in mist,
And the world lost its champion, a soul none could resist.
The nets now hang silent, the courts sigh in pain,
As echoes of laughter mix softly with rain.
For he taught us of triumph, of rise and of fall,
That victory’s sweeter when shared by us all.
A beacon of hope for those who dared strive,
In a sport that had flourished, he helped it thrive.
From humble beginnings, with sweat on his brow,
He raised up the game, and he showed us just how.
But beyond all the triumphs, the trophies he tallied,
It was kindness and spirit that he truly rallied.
A mentor, a leader, the light in the fray,
He inspired the dreamers to look at the way.
Now silence envelops the space he once filled,
Yet his legacy lingers, forever instilled.
In the hearts of the players who play for the thrill,
In the stories they tell, his essence, it will.
So let us remember, as we take to the court,
The legend we lost, yet his lessons will sort.
For Ben Johns, the champion, in every soul’s play,
Will forever abide, as we honor his way.
Leave a Reply