In the realm of courts where echoes blend,
A titan stands, a gathering trend;
Ben Johns, the phenom, a name that soared,
With paddles in hand, his spirit roared.
Yet in the spotlight, a curtain descends,
A bombshell drops, as the message sends;
With whispered winds and a heavy heart,
He steps away, a shocking start.
The crowd, once thunderous, now hushed in fright,
As dreams of victory fade into night;
In a sport that flourished, vibrant and bright,
His absence looms, a daunting sight.
Each serve, each volley, a dance so divine,
With precision and passion, he crossed every line.
A champion’s fervor, unmatched, untamed,
Now whispers of silence, as glory is claimed.
Fans who once cheered now wrestle with tears,
As the echoes of paddles fade into years;
The courts lay bare, once alive with delight,
In the wake of his choices, shadows ignite.
What drives him away from the cheers of the masses?
A quest for solace, where the soul often passes?
In dreams of his own, does he seek to ascend,
To find peace and purpose, to self-repair mend?
For those who have followed his meteoric flight,
Know that even the brightest can vanish from sight;
In the pages of history, we etch his name bold,
But the heart of the game is what we must hold.
So let’s honor the journey, the victories crowned,
And cherish the moments where his spirit was found;
For in every end lies a new chapter’s call,
And though Ben may wane, the sport will stand tall.
In the echo of footsteps, a legacy thrives,
In the hearts of the lovers, the passion survives;
As we pause in our tracks, let this truth now unfold—
In the silence that lingers, true legends grow gold.
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