I flexed my shoulder and released the hammer.
The bleachers, rivals silenced just the same.
Why does it matter if it’s Jones or Cramer?
The record is already in my name.

It’s settled. It’s decided. It’s all over.
I think I’ll fly along as number two.
But I cannot, for I’m a hammer thrower:
I’m told to throw a hammer, so I do.

Alas, I have to throw a fit in Italy.
At home, I do much better, rest assured.
I’d throw it far away and so efficiently
That it, most likely, would be gone for good.

I was a blacksmith, forging on the anvil,
I clutched the hammer, and I always dreamed:
That one fine day, I’ll grab its heavy handle
And hurl it far, so it’ll be lost indeed.

I stand against excessive admiration,
However, I believe that I’m on track
To throw it far away in celebration -
So judges will need hounds to bring it back.

As everyone expected, I’m unstoppable,
I threw it once again, at my expense, -
Extremely far away, as far as possible.
So, what’s the secret to my swift success?

Here’s my response to the reporters’ jabber:
"These people helped me to fulfill my dream
Of climbing up the steep athletic ladder -
My coaching staff, my family, and my team."