**[Verse 1]** He bought that little house brand new, '68 or '69 Fresh stained front porch, and a pretty young wife inside Built his LiL kingdom with his own two hands, on a working man's pay And raised five babies in them four walls where his beautiful wife slipped away **[Verse 2]** Took three summers of scrapin' by, overtime and a remortgaged home Laid a little square of asphalt, behind that little home Bent pole, plywood backboard, orange rim from the hardware store His kids watchin' from the windows barefoot on that hardwood floor that wasn't hardwood at all. **** And that first shot - Lord, that first shot made His boy threw it up short and it rattled and it stayed Five kids screamin' like they won the championship game In that backyard, barefoot saints in Jesus' name Yeah, that first shot made a lifetime ring.[Chorus] **[Verse 3]** Then it was ball games after supper, screen doors slammin' shut Mama on a lawn chair laughin', keepin' score in a lemonade cup Sneakers squeakin' on blacktop, until that porch light came on Five different jump shots, five different dreams, one by one, they were gone **[Verse 4]** Now the asphalt's all cracked up, grass growin' through the seams Chain net rusted solid, hangin' onto faded dreams Weeds up to the free-throw line that never was that straight And that old goal leans a little left, like it's been learnin' how to wait **[Chorus - softer]** And the last shot... that last shot made Youngest girl home from college, one more game to play He was too wore out to guard her, but he smiled that whole last day She kissed his cheek and drove off down the highway He ain't heard that net sing since. **** Now he wanders through the garden, tomatoes on the vine Takes him all mornin' to do what used to take no time He'll stop out by that pole, put his old hand on that rust Stares at that ball in the shed, too heavy now to pick up[Bridge] **[Final Chorus - Tribute]** But that court still remembers every battle, every fall Every "good job, son," writ in chalk upon that wall No kids hollerin', no screen door slam Just an old man and the quiet and the ghost of where he's been And that rusted old goal still standin' Guardin' that little piece of heaven Where the first shot and the last shot made A poor old man won every game they ever had
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