“yeah man, call out
‘aye laddie’ to claim the
ball.” we laughed, and he
hit a grounder, followed by a
pop fly, followed by another
grounder, all thrown back to
the proximity of the pitcher.
“what’s it gonna be like tomorrow?”
I asked. “In the 70s...I haven't hit
since last spring.” Some clouds
loomed overhead and my hairs stood
on end. He hit a short one and paused,
“What are your dinner plans? I
got a few pizzas in the freezer.”
“Wow, that’ll be great weather for the
frisbee tournament then.” The ball
tuckered out of my glove. Dammnit.
He cranked out another one, and the guy
out left managed to haul it in,
“Aye laddie!” The sun peaked out
a bit, and I saw where the clouds
would end for a time. “Aye laddie!”
That one, I caught.
Reds and oranges over the trees, and
none of us believed in sun sets.
Sometimes in life, though we’ve paid all our dues,
We’re given the screws; we’ve been had and we lose.
The shot that we thought was our best one has failed.
Our hopes have derailed; opponents prevailed.
We either can wallow or rise from the muck
And swallow our pride and proceed with pure pluck.
There’s nothing to gain staying down in the dumps;
Just rein in the pain and accept a few lumps.
Tomorrow will dawn like it usually does.
We’ll look back and wonder what all the buzz was;
And maybe we’ll put it all high on a shelf
To satisfy something inside of ourself.
If not, then we’ll flounder, a fish in a net;
An easy-out grounder or Russian roulette.
For life is unfair much more often than not
And despair is the lot that at times we have got.
As a new father I coached my little league son
He was clumsy and uncoordinated
Picked dandelions in the outfield
Watched bumble bees fly and hum
Would run to a grounder and watch it stop
pick it up to throw it but it would drop
He enjoyed his team mates for they were friends
He struck out more than hitting the ball
Funny thing was he would always run whether he did or not
How I wanted him to hit the ball so hard
Perhaps a grand- slam homerun for him and my heart
But the greatness was in him- he was part of the team
His greatest joy was afterwards
When we’d all go get ice-cream
To all of you fans sitting close to the field:
When you see a fair grounder coming, please yield.
That means that the ball coming is still in play.
If you interfere, you just might ruin the day.
The umpire will say it’s a ground rule double.
Take the ball away, and you’ll be in trouble.
The runner on first must go back to third base.
Your team may lose the game, and that’s a disgrace.
That runner may have scored your team’s tying run.
They’ll be losing a game which they could have won.
Sure, you’ll have yourselves a wanted souvenir
However, that baseball’s cost might be quite dear!
One thousand dollars fine, and you’ll be kicked out.
The players and fans won’t like it; there’s no doubt.
That ball must be foul before taking it out.
So think before you interfere with that ball.
A game must be a pleasure for one and all.
Time to head out to Turner Field
I will surley not yield
Everyone knows my team, the braves
Even the ones in caves
To watch McCain hit a homer
And watch Chipper field a grounder
Nothing feels as such
Not a thing can get me going more than a diving catch
The seventh inning stretch
The only break we need, we are ready for a home run catch
The ninth inning is such torment
Waiting to find out which team is dominant
We cheer for the home team to win
If they lose it is like a sin
Can't wait untill the next game
And I know it will be great just the same
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