by Sheila Bernstein
A tattered scorecard,
An autograph or two.
For most kids that will do as a souvenir from a day at the game.
A double-header; what could be better?
This kid, two to three times the age of your average player, never had a
prayer that she would return home with such a treasure.
It was a foul ball up into the stands.
Grown men ducked, children raised their mitts aloft, but it was I who caught
The crowd gave a cheer!
And this kid went home with her souvenir in her purse, and the Cubs beat the
Sox, so what could be worse?
The South against the North.
Oh, how that ball did soar
At this modern-day civil war.
Published in Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox, History, Lyric | Link to this poem | No Comments