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dear roy

by Ollie Shane

(for Roy Halladay, 1977-2017)

how are you doing
wherever you ended up?
do you still fly above as your son follows in your footsteps
waving at him every so often?
did you ever see your own plaque at our mecca?
maybe you do, but then again
we as fans project our hopes and hard-owned money onto our faves
is it any surprise when we discover they have a daredevil on their shoulder instead of a chip
to motivate their game?

Ollie Shane is the author of the chapbook I Do It So It Feels Like Hell (Bottlecap Press, 2022) and the forthcoming full-length notes from the void (Wild Ink Publishing, 2025). He is also a second-generation Philadelphia Phillies fan all thanks to his beloved grandfather, Vince Tassoni.

 

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Two Hands

by Robert E. Petras

“Two hands!” cried my dad,
A dude who grew up

When mitts were as flat as Biblical Earth.
Even a pitcher named Mordecai Brown

Used two hands, and his nickname
Was Three Fingers.

Pop ups, grounders, line drives, Baltimore
.         Chops—

Did not matter—two hands
Was my old man’s mantra.

I had a spanking new Rawlings,
Had a pocket you could pull out

A rabbit but not one over
My old man. The mitt

Was stiff as a wedding
Invitation. Beat it and beat it

I did and steeped that stubborn hide
With saddle soap, butter, Mazola,

Vicks Vapo Rub, 30 weight,
Anything lubey. Over and over

I pounded it with a rubber mallet,
Ran it over and over with my bike

Until that leather went limp
As overcooked spaghetti,

So soft you could use it for a pillow,
Which I did,

Firm enough to snag a rope,
Which I did,

A leaping stab in centerfield,
But I threw it to the wrong cutoff.

“Use your brain!” my dad yelled,
“Both sides of it!”

 

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Thank You, Vito Barone

by Jim Siergey

I have to thank
Vito Barone
for introducing me to
Willie Mays.
Vito lived across the alley
and was appalled to learn
that at the age of nine
I knew nothing
about baseball.
That summer
he came over every day
and we would go across the street
to the empty lot
where he would teach me
to catch, field. throw
and hit a baseball.
Every day.
Where I grew up
you were either
a Cubs fan
or a Sox fan.
Vito was an anomaly
as he was a Giants fan.
Whenever the Cubs played the Giants
he’d invite me over
and we’d watch the games
on TV.
There I got to see Willie Mays
in his prime.
Also
McCovey, Marichal and Cepeda
but Willie was special.
He was magical.
So, thank you, Vito,
wherever you are.

 

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Giant Shoulders

by Dr. Rajesh C. Oza

In honor of Willie Howard Mays, Jr., 1931–2024

Stand on the shoulders
of the Giants’ Willie Mays
and roar, “Say Hey, Kids!”