Monday, October 14, 2024

Monday BB Poem

 

The Game Plays On

 

I hear you, Willie; I see you, Henry—

They never measured your launch

Angle, exit velocity—

Just watched the magic happen.

Even then, the schools rolled carts

With TVs into classrooms.

The PE teacher taught us

To keep score as Bob Gibson

Shoveled the curse on the Sox,

First baseman with a worried

Look nervously tapped home plate.

Daddy said Babe Ruth went to

Heaven, but something wasn’t

Right about old Tyrus Cobb.

Nineteenth World Series

That Daddy’s missed, he saw one

Major League baseball game,

Fulton County, Atlanta--

Was enough for Mom and him.

Henry hit a home run and

Chief Knockahoma war danced

Outside his left field teepee.

The game plays on till I don’t

Know the players anymore.

Pete Rose is dead and they bet

On all conceivable results.

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