Out

Mantle, Berra, Whitey Ford
Were baseball players I adored.
At ten, I dreamed their throws and hits
Could be mine too and I’d pound my mitt.

We picked up games in the old coal yard
The field was rough and diamond hard.
The guys I played with were the same –
They played a tough and gritty game.

My head was filled when up at bat.
With all my heroes’ hitting stats.
It’s not surprising consequently
That I struck out quite frequently.

And neither was my defense great –
The balls went past, the throws were late.
With gifts of neither power nor speed,
On some days I stayed home to read.

When it was time to pick the teams
We used a democratic means.
The bat was tossed and hands were stacked
To see which teammates captains backed.

Jonsey … Peter … Michael … Joe …
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
I did the math, I always knew,
That, out goes Y … O … U.