The Call

by Charles Ghigna

Like many kids of the 1950s, I loved baseball. I played on teams throughout my youth and in 1964 I received an invitation to spring training camp for a tryout with the Pittsburgh Pirates. I’m still waiting to hear from them. In the meantime, I’ve been writing a few poems…

I may have lost a step or two,
(Or four, or six, or eight).
My bat speed may have slowed a bit,
(Much like a rusty gate).

My fastball may have lost some pop,
My slider may be have slid,
But when I dream of baseball,
I become a kid.

A glint of steel in my young stare,
Swagger in my stride,
I saunter to the plate
With confidence and pride.

A fastball down the middle,
I swing with all my might,
Old Rawlings soars past the crowd
And deep into the night.

There I am in summer’s glow
Warmed by hometown cheers,
Rounding third and striding home,
Back to my boyhood years.

Suddenly I’m sixty-six
Asleep in winter’s sun,
Dreaming of what might have been
When I was twenty-one.

Still I wait to take the call,
To hear them say my name,
An old man dreaming of the day
He played a young man’s game.

Charles Ghigna (Father Goose) is a poet, children’s author, speaker, and nationally syndicated feature writer for Tribune Media Services.