This poem is short and sweet, and it’s one that so many folks can identify with. We can’t all be great ballplayers, but one doesn’t have to be able to hit a fast ball to be in love with the game. I came across this one in Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.
I didn’t even make
the seventh grade
girls’ third team
Last Easter, scrub game
with the kids,
a foul right through
Captain Kelly’s French doors,
had to pay.
Still, these sultry
the dark ballet
of players sliding
and shout “Safe!
He’s safe! He’s home!”
and so am I.
Okay, so this song isn’t exactly about baseball the game, but I do enjoy the sound of the old school punk bands, so I’m posting this one anyway. It does involve a baseball bat, so close enough, right?
It may be Thursday and there might not be baseball right now, but I find myself identifying with this sentiment right now. It is currently raining in my city, with the forecast showing rain and storms throughout the day, meaning that I’m going to have a hard time squeezing my run in.
I know the whole situation with COVID-19 and the suspension of baseball has us all down in the dumps right now, and learning of Tom Hanks’s positive diagnosis with the virus isn’t helping matters. I’m struggling with the state of things myself these days, not just as far as baseball is concerned, but also in how this situation has impacted so many other areas of my life, and I’m certainly not alone in that.
So in an effort to help myself and anyone else who needs it to keep our chins up, here is Tom Hanks as Jimmy Dugan to remind us that there is no crying in baseball.
There are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary. And there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance.
Here’s a piece by Michael Ceraolo based on the Jun 24, 1946 crash involving a bus carrying the Spokane Indians of Minor League Baseball. The bus crashed on Snoqualmie Pass in Washington State in what is considered one of the worst accidents in the history of American professional sports. Nine players were killed in the accident, and six were injured. Eight of those who died had served in World War II.
Since I was the player-manager
(though only 25),
I will take the responsibility to speak for the rest
Frederick “Marty” Martinez
and me, Mel Cole,
were members of the Spokane Indians team
On June 24, 1946,
enroute to Bremerton for the next day’s game,
our bus swerved to avoid an oncoming car,
falling three hundred feet down and bursting into flames
Marty, George Risk, the three Bobs, and I
were dead at the scene
Vic died on the way to the hospital,
George Lyden died the next day,
and Chris died two days later
Vic, not yet 19, was the best prospect among us;
the rest of us were older and had served during the war,
probably ending any major-league dreams for us
The driver of the oncoming car was never found
This song by Meat Loaf is a long one, and it’s largely a teenage (ahem) love story. But it does throw in the baseball metaphor with a simulated radio broadcast about halfway through. Enjoy!