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Sadie Aug 8
you don’t know what it’s like,
watching a person you love, love something else.
partaking in what they want,
pretending to love it too,
hiding how you really feel.
it seems justified when you see how happy it makes them.
their eyes light up with joy,
they can’t help but smile,
they wear the look you do when you think of them,
but then it fades.
not their happiness, but yours.
you feel trapped,
changed into what they want.
slowly forgetting what it was that used to make you happy,
slowly forgetting what the happiness even felt like,
so you close yourself off.
following along faithfully.
all they wanted was to share the thing they love with the person they love,
but you can’t hold on forever.
so they fall out of love with you,
seek a new person to share with,
leaving you alone,
lost.
chasing after the object of their affection in hopes to win them back.
forever distancing yourself from the person you used to be,
forever trapping yourself in the world you so desperately want to escape,
forever following hopelessly in their footsteps.
JT Nelson Jun 3
Sometimes dads can amaze us
With feats of athleticism
That we didn't think they had in them

My dad once snagged a foul ball
With his hand outstretched
And didn't drop the beer in his other hand.

I just stared in disbelief at this man
Standing there like he did it everyday
This day was my lucky day as he flipped me the ball.
Remembering my dad as baseball season gets rolling.
Sarah Adams May 12
I’ll be here with my arms stretched wide

Ready to catch a break

Instead of all these curveballs

That keep hitting me in the face

I don’t even like baseball

⚾️
PMc May 12
There’s no point in trying to become
the best umpire that ever lived.
There’s always someone who’s gonna’ call your game otherwise
no matter how well you play that day, or any other

There’s the time spent practicing with little tykes,
triple A, Grapefruit Leagues and more practice,
there’s never any respite for those who are right
only someone else to refute your best judgement.

There’s no right/wrong regarding calls, strikes/*****
it’s Olympic swimming, diving, ice skating,
subjective.
There’s no life like it, ‘cept maybe the Army

Betting of all sorts, you know not where or when
you just know it’s going on somewhere with somebody/somewise.
There’s no accounting for mans indiscretion to sport
nor the improprieties of professional sport/entertainment.

There’s no telling if you’re gonna’ call good or bad games
or if your kindness or mean streak will exude on any given day
There’s no telling if you’ll make or break at one call or another.

No telling if your taxi will drive or stop
while you’re in a cab
There’s no telling if it’s your time or not
to face the lost angel of death…or not
   it will happen
   in the taxi on the street
   or the garden you’re tending
   the house league diamond
   or the major league ball park
   it will happen
   but there’s no telling……
   when
1 April 1996, opening day at Riverfront Stadium (Cincinnati, OH), John McSherry, the National League home plate umpire collapsed and died of a massive heart attack right there in front of fifty thousand people at the game and more watching on television.  A different day and time and the cardiac arrest might have happened in the taxi on the way to the game - or in his hotel room that night - or wherever.   The mightiest of all messengers has an unusual sense of timing.
Star BG Apr 25
If words a baseball be
well sticked by a poets rhyme
Than I be the writer divine
ready to catch their muse with sigh
to creatively toss to another’s hand of eye.

And as the tightly woven ball of verse under sun
it will travel to be home run.
Thanks all for inspiring me.
Shamamama helped me with the last line thanks
Patrick Wood Feb 6
Advisers, confidants, close friends,
hear my beckoning.
So betrothed to the game i'm wondering
if you ears are turned red
from my constant berating of facts and formula
from my phone, from my bed.
From a far away place, listing all the times I've spit last week
they're all-seeing bloodhounds
trapping me in beloved rat race
..."To Jimmy Turner, Kathy Lintz and Peter Bensinger, advisers, confidants and close friends, thank you." - an excerpt from Ryne Sandberg's induction to the hall of fame
KKM Jan 23
i tie and retie my hair w the same scrunchie that you gave me 5.6 years ago hoping your cinnamon eyes will return my gaze but the purple clouds at sunrise can't and won't blow out the fire in my bones fast enough to look away, the railing on our front porch is falling apart for the first time since we bought this haunted place but I don't have the guts to get out my silver hammer and whack the nails back into place the way you carry around a loaded heart & never hit my love out of bounds, but still past the field where we used to play baseball as kids, the same bases that I fell for something about you in black & white nights red lipstick stains & dainty gifts, we didn't need to watch fireworks every 1st of July because we had sparks inside of us but we did anyway, I'm not sure why, & it was till 2:13 every night that you still had me on your mind till the next phone call in off white and spearmints green
David Adamson Jan 21
Last year's version of the mind-body problem:
my mind gives orders that my body won’t obey.
It’s a problem.

The body’s warranty has expired and
spare parts are scarce.  Plastic tubes
To help me drain have become part of my day.
So there’s still a will.  But sometimes no way.

I am now my sister’s age when she died.  
And some nights
as I lie down in darkness
there’s a moment of wondering
could this be the night
of the Great Reckoning
when everything I’ve said and done
goes mute and I am gone.

And crawling over me like a slow stain
is dread that everything important in life
has already happened. I remember some days  
less than my dreams.

But friend, not this tone!
Let us write a history of now.
Body and soul, stand up and shout
“Baseball road trip!”

Car:  check.  Best friend:  check.  Nostalgia for a simpler
time.  We can fake that one.
The red zigzags on our map turn into places:
Six ballparks in a week.
Detroit haze, gasping Chicago wind,
Milwaukee self-serve micro brew
Cincinnati chili and watering eyes,
Cleveland’s defiant self-love,
Pittsburgh’s Primanti brothers monstrosity sandwich—
Burger, coleslaw, and fries on toast.

The American dream tastes like fast food,
But the mystery lives between the lines.
Thwack of fastball into catcher’s glove,
Whock! of line drive into the gap,
Ball rolling free across the green
While the runner speeds for home.
Home.

Let’s keep going, friend.
There’s another bridge up ahead and
a ballpark’s lights shining somewhere in the dusk
of the upper Midwest and the open road
unrolls toward the setting sun.
Begin of warm weather
And the
Start of baseball, the count down starts;
Each day it gets closer to Opening Day.
Baseball season is the best season!
And I love watching my
Love play while I keep score, official!
Let's go Red Sox!!
copyright; 2018
McNally/Flanders, Inc.
wrote this back in the spring about the excitement of start of baseball
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