I’m not sure where this poem originated, but I really like it. Even as I grew up, there always seemed to be a parent at every level of play who was just determined to take the fun out of the game. It makes me wonder how many potential Major Leaguers gave up the game early due to incidents like this.
*
He stands at the plate
with his heart beating fast.
The bases are loaded
the dye has been cast.
Mom and Dad cannot help him
he stands all alone.
A hit at this moment
would bring the boys home.
The ball nears the plate
he swings hard but misses.
There’s a groan from the crowd,
with some boo’s and some hisses.
A thoughtless voice cries out,
“Strike out the bum!”
Tears fill the boy’s eyes,
the game’s no longer fun.
Parents and spectators
with faces of stone;
Remember, he’s just a boy
who’s standing alone.
Please open your heart
and give him a break.
For it’s moments like this,
a great man you can make.
So keep this in mind,
if you hear someone forget.
He’s just a small boy
and not a man yet.