Coming of Age In Centerville With Baseball and Girls

Summer nights in Centerville, sleeping on the top bunk bed; A transistor radio playing low, lying right there near my head. The Big Red Machine was in their prime; those boys could sure play ball; I fell asleep every night listening to the play-by-play of Joe Nuxhall. I entered my life of puberty with Charlie Hustle running to first; Davey Concepcion turning two and Joe Morgan with a speedy burst. Johnny Bench throwing out would be stealers, Pedro Borbon with a bending curve; All happening on the summer of my first kiss – once I finally worked up the nerve. With Tommy sleeping in the bed below – nary a care in the world, George Foster launched an enormous shot while I tried to figure out the girls. Jack Billingham was striking them out – an apt metaphor for my chances, As I fantasized about dating girls while two bases Ken Griffey advances. Tony Perez was still strapping them on; Don Gullet piled up some wins; Cesar Geronimo owned center field while my hormones multiplied within. Coming of age in Centerville, back in nineteen seventy-four, Meant listening to the Cincinnati Reds while thinking about the girl next door.