Field of Dreams (1989)

by Bob McKenty

This “Field of Dreams” was once a field of corn
Until a voice mysteriously sends
Kinsella on a quest. A ballfield’s born:
Necropolis for Shoeless Joe and friends.
More voices. Off to Boston to enlist,
If necessary, kidnap (petty crime).
A surly writer (Sixties activist).
They’ll cross the country and the bounds of time
To give dead Moonlight Graham his first at-bat
Against a big-league pro. Emergency!
Doc Graham to the rescue. Who is that
(The catcher)? Looks familiar. Can it be…?!
A corny story certainly. So why
Does “Wanna have a catch, Dad?” make me cry?

 

Max Carey

by Michael Ceraolo

When I played,
my claim to fame was stealing bases;
I even patented sliding pads
Later,
when I was involved in the girls’ game,
I winced every time a player
had to slide in those skirts
We should have let them wear baseball pants

May 16th, Washout at Fenway

by John Grey

When was the last time
rains were this Biblical
Any minute now I’m expecting
two of every animal
to traipse in from the outfield
not a bunch of ballplayers
high-tailing it to the dugout
like they’re eking out an infield hit.

And how irreverent the downpour
splashing over the Green Monster,
slapping against the Pesky Pole,
flooding the pitchers’ mound
where Roger struck out twenty,
the base paths where Fisk danced
his winning jig in ‘75,
even the batter’s box where Ted Williams
swung his devilish lumber
on the way to averaging .400.

Still, it’s early and the Sox are
trailing big time.
So it’s a washout courtesy of the baseball gods.
With any luck,
that 0-6 score will drown.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, and Red Sox fan, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Rathalla Review.