winy am-
monia mini
yams say i
am my
own way
high rep-
tilian brat-
boy schwing-
er rain-
ing ground-
ers through the
shortstop's not so
sticky wickets
OMG! What do you mean that
There's no service at this time?
Well my provider better be ready,
To pay a pretty penny or a dime.
At least they were kind enough,
To send a quick text to let me know.
That they need a few more hours to
Try and restore my lost bloodflow.
Well what the hell do they expect me
To do, now that I'm left all alone?
I mean, no TV, no internet, no music ...
Does life go on as it's been known?
Now I'm trying to search my memory,
Of how we all survived before these days.
Whether battling dungeons and dragons,
Or being a shortstop making plays.
So as I'm forced to stop surfing my digital waves,
I'll turn back the clock and go 'old-school'.
Where opening a book and using a pen & paper,
May substitute for interaction and be new fuel.
This might lead to more face-to-face meets,
Even those I'd rather avoid.
As my options seem limited, but damnit,
I can't be more annoyed!
Yet here I sit confessing my anger,
Feeling inept to accomplish anything more.
While I try to find some creativity,
Awaiting the nets return, just as before.
Hooray!
Wet grassy feet fill my soccer cleats.
Hot sweaty teens run fast track meets.
She skis down sugary mountain tops.
He begs his coach to play shortstop.
Footballs, field goals, fumbles.
Touchdowns, tackles, tumbles.
My mother keeps warm with hot brown drinks,
as I learn to skate on chilly rinks.
A sadly splintered hockey stick, from a two-quick hat trick.
A winning catch is cradled in a well-loved mitt.
Tiger wins with a hole in one.
Miniature golf is much more fun.
Double dribble the whistle blows.
Excitement on the court grows!
Busy balls dunked in their hoops.
"Hooray" the three cheers for the ALLEY -OOP!
She’s a short-spoken woman he told all.
She’s short-legged? I asked, not at all tall?
Short-sighted? Another yelled from a wall.
She’s a shortstop? My uncle yelled from a stall.
She wears shortie nightgowns was the next call.
About to see a short temper on the man with the doll.
Pee Wee Reese was a diminutive shortstop
For the old Brooklyn Dodgers when I was a tot
With Jackie at second
Both are legends
Heroes of my childhood and a joy to watch
Baseball and beer and a beautiful woman
Baseball and beer
and a beautiful woman
Tonight, such a
wonderful date
Two teams are playing,
while one love we're sharing,
who cares who is up
at the plate
Her team gets a hit
and I can't help but smile,
seeing the look
on her face
The batter starts running,
he hopes for a single
while I begin rounding
first base
Holding her tight,
as we kiss between pitches,
keeping an eye
on the score
I slide into second,
my heart quickly beating
here with the one
I adore
"Stee-rike, you're out!"
I can hear the ump yelling,
the shortstop just went
down in three
I pull her in close
all the while I am thinking,
I'm glad he's not
yelling at me
Now to third base,
oh her skin soft and tender,
the infield, the lights
up above
I can see home,
as I lead off a little,
then dart in a sprint
to her love
Crossing home plate
is a magical feeling,
breathless the two
of us cheer
A beautiful woman,
an evening of baseball,
and let's not forget
about beer
** Note: The Astros won the game**
For the National Pastime poetry contest
Sponsored by: Phillip Garcia
Clean uniforms all lined up
One set on each side.
Two flags- state and country-
Salute from across the field.
Swing, swing, swing again
And a thick clink,
Everything moves at once.
The ball- outfield, second base,
First base, third,
Shortstop and then the mound.
Is he out?
You bet, tagged at first.
Good boy.
Batter up, tap tap tap on the ground,
Swing around to ready.
Swing, swing, swing again
And again and again.
That's three, my boy, you're out.
Change sides.
The Mets figured they already had a pitching ace.
They badly needed a competent man to play third base.
A righty and a lefty were considered better than dependable.
The management considered another right-handed pitcher expendable.
The Amazin’ Mets felt they had minor league talent galore.
After the win in ‘69, they were gunning for one more.
For this expendable right-hander, a converted shortstop the Mets would get.
This was a deal the front office and fans would regret.
The outcome of this done deal proved to be a shame.
That expendable right-hander went on to the Hall of Fame.
There is a lot of responsibility for a shortstop.
Many times, I field the ball on the hop.
As sure as I breathe and am alive,
I often have to snare a hard line drive.
I become a catalyst for a double play.
We must keep the opponents from scoring and save the day.
I field the ball up the middle and throw to first base.
There is no time to think, but react in haste.
To get the runner out, I have no time to waste.
I must get the ball to first with a strong arm.
That way, I can protect our lead from harm.
I must be the team’s wizard with the glove.
It is hard work, but a labor of love.
I lead my team out on the field each day.
When it comes to winning, I must always find a way.
Steve Jeltz, you did something great.
You hit a home run from both sides of the plate.
Both home runs were hit during the same game.
That was your one great moment of fame.
Today, we have just about forgotten your name.
Steve played shortstop for the Phillies.
It was only for a few seasons in the eighties.
Not too many switch-hitting shortstops can be found.
You filled in adequately while you were around.
Just as any durable and competent shortstop,
you cleanly field practically anything coming on the hop.
Your athletic ability shows when you throw to first base.
Among the best major leaguers, you have taken your place.
You hit equally well from both sides of the plate.
Your surge of power in recent years has been great.
On the base paths, you have been a constant threat.
As a base stealer, you are among the best ones yet.
Proven to be a player of the best kind,
to the Phillies, you have been quite a find.
May you continue to play baseball for many more years.
Among the home crowd, you will hear many cheers.
Baseball cards
have been around for years.
There are Topps,
and there are Fleers,
along with Bowman
and Donruss,
there are many
available to us.
Whether the player
plays shortstop or third base,
any professional player
will have his face
displayed on the front
of a baseball card.
Some are easy to find
and some are hard.
They are sold in packs
of bubble gum.
Every summer,
they come in a continuum.
Collecting makes a great hobby
without any doubt.
I only wish my old man
did not throw my old ones out!
For a team to compete in a pennant chase,
they need quality at first, second, and third base.
Players are needed that can hit and field.
Three more are required to complete the outfield.
To field line drives or grounders on the hop,
any team also needs a quality shortstop.
No squad can ever be considered great
if they don’t have a good catcher behind the plate.
Any club needs four or five dependable starters.
To finish the game, a good corps of relievers.
A contending team has a fine pitching staff.
Anything less than that would be a laugh.
In order to reach the top position,
a team has to outscore the opposition.
They need more wins than the competition.
This is any team’s annual mission.
The team from Philadelphia is considered great.
They put it all together in 2008.
The season ended with a World Series victory.
That’s what meeting expectations means to me.
He shot the speed out of me.
I am dirt again.
It did not matter what I was.
If I was more he would put it in check.
Baseball was hard.
But he was the shortstop that ran and
When learning to throw, I chose my elbow
and he would laugh, call it weak.
And he knew better than mom.
I withdrew my assertions
because there is no truth
when all that stands are poles,
extremes of north versus south.
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