by Michael Ceraolo
It was in a way because of politics
that I got to pitch in the majors,
though not from a quota system for amputees
I had been returned stateside
in a prisoner exchange in early ’45,
and when I was in Washington
getting fitted for a new lower leg,
I was visited by someone high up in the War Department
I told him my desire was to play baseball
and he mentioned me to Mr. Griffith,
who let me come to camp and be part of the team
Being a lefty, I was fortunate
that it was my lower right leg that was gone;
had it been the left the dream would have been gone also
I know I was kept around mostly as a morale booster
for those in similar situations as mine,
and to pitch batting practice and exhibition games
I did get into one real game and pitched well,
which tells you about the quality of wartime ball,
since I wasn’t very good before the war
with two full legs (too wild),
and I wasn’t very good after the war
with one-and-a-half legs (still too wild)
Yet, as much of a thrill as it was
to pitch in a major-league game,
I’d have to say my greatest thrill
was meeting, almost fifty years later,
the German Army doctor who saved my life
Excellent.