The Magic Hidden in Nine Innings
This gentleman's sport,
Brings up my youth,
To stadium transport,
Fans and emulators of Babe Ruth.
When I was young,
We sat in the cheap seats.
Big family among.
On metal bleachers, a butt heats.
At our feet,
Peanut shells in piles,
So many we eat,
While the game beguiles.
I watch the balls fly,
Trajectories rather vast,
Oh, look! How High!
While the baserunners move fast.
Dad would talk at games,
Which we did not witness a lot.
He knows the player's names?!
His vocabulary is more than I ever thought.
Injuries occur,
But tis not a bloodsport,
Which is what we prefer,
For spectator comfort.
A moment in time,
We root for players to succeed,
Hit a homer, catch a fly, sublime,
And the other team's score impede.
Some fans want their team to win.
Others enjoy watching the game as a whole.
Whatever the reason,
This game our heart stole.
If the game is long,
Better conversations can be had,
Fans try to get along,
Or don't, and that's bad.
Japan's favorite sport,
Provides America many a powerhouse,
A valuable import,
And welcome addition to the clubhouse.
A sport that makes fans sing,
Stretch, move, and dance,
Up collective tookis bring,
All the more body condition and game experience to enhance.
Let's go to a ball game,
With fans abound,
Expletives exclaim,
Until the winning team is crowned.
On Fireworks Night,
Music and vision astound,
Phosphorus in flight,
Friends and magical experience surround.
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