It’s the bottom of the ninth
The World Series game is tied
Two outs, bases are loaded
The pitch, it was high inside
The batter, desperate, fought it off
He connected, hit a line drive
Coming his way, slicing sharply
His reaction went into overdrive
It was going to be very close
And he knew it instinctively
Backpedaling, watched it closely
Wondered to himself why me
It broke sharply to his left
That ball that he had to catch
Desperate, he raced after it
Onto it he had to somehow latch
Rapidly closing on it, he lunged
He felt it enter his glove
Up against the wall, he was
He pushed off it with a shove
Triumphant, he held it up high
For all the crowd to see
Excited, he fumbled, dropped it
The runner crossed the plate with glee
Now he’s in the minor leagues
He’s sitting alone on the pine
Chances of the majors again
They will always be declined
Tuesday, June 21, 2022