On the Death of Baseball (1994/2014)

by Holly L. McEntyre

I spent my childhood
.        learning to tell
.        balls from strikes and
.        rejoicing over 6-4-3
double plays.

Memorizing the names and positions
.        of all “my” players,
.        watching my Montreal Expos “win some, lose some”
.        at Jarry Park,
copying their signatures from baseball cards
.        into my little red scrapbook.

Belting out two anthems
.        at “The Big ‘O’”
Proud of my country,
.        and of Canada,
and of the great North American game.

In the film version
.        of “Shoeless Joe”
James Earl Jones
.        tells us
that baseball is
.        the one constant,
baseball is America.

When baseball is ruined,
destroyed for the masses
.        by the few
.        wealthy enough
to own
.        those who
.        play for pay,
What does this say
.        about our constant,
What does this say
.        about our country?

It says
that even though a boy can
.        “have a catch” with his father,
although Mo’Ne Davis “throws
.        like a girl” at 70 MPH,
we have struck out,
because “Field of Dreams”
is just a movie, the “American Dream”
is just a myth, and
baseball
is just a game.

 


Published in Ballparks, Fans, Former Teams, Free Verse, History, Management, The Game Itself, Youth | Link to this poem | 3 Comments

On the Death of Baseball (1994/2014): 3 Comments

  1. moe thacker wrote,

    This is really great, and so true.

  2. Leo wrote,

    Oh, that is adorable (although surley they would die if they knew they were just called adorable!) The State Baseball Tournament is a big deal– I hope their games go/went well!

  3. Chris wrote,

    Yes, i remember reinadg it once. a very long time ago but i remember that he would raise his hands in his wind up then decide on what arm he would use. i believe it was banned a year later because it through hitters off too much

Leave Your Comment

Comment Form

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.