By Stuart Shea
It’s the last day of the season,
The end of the road for 22 teams.
And the last day in the majors for a lot of guys…
we just don’t know who, yet.
Many big-league careers will end today.
The 24-year-old prospect who’ll tear up a knee in winter ball,
The 30-year-old marginal regular who’ll go to Japan to cash in,
The 33-year-old situational reliever who can’t get anyone out,
The 36-year-old backup catcher who’ll get cut next spring and retire.
Let’s tip our hat to the as-yet unknown who will exeunt omnes,
Because baseball is about them just as much
as it is about Manny and Dice-K and Greinke and C.C.
.
Posted 10/6/2009
Posted on 10/6/09
Published in Free Verse, Players, Stu Shea, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | 2 Comments
Weekend Reading: Mays, the Babe and a Botch | pitchers & poets wrote,
[...] Stuart Shea offers a poem to the soon-to-move-on. Bardball [...]
Link | October 9th, 2009 at 5:34 pm
Stretch wrote,
Wonderful tribute! It’s rare that anyone takes time to give these guys a second thought. As one with a brother who may have recently thrown his last ML pitch, fittingly at Chavez Ravine after 9+ years in the bigs, I appreciate your respectful, somewhat forlorn effort. You really caught this one on the sweet spot.
Link | October 17th, 2009 at 6:25 pm