“Green Haven in a Concrete Jungle,” by Michael Brogan

I like the idea of having a baseball-related tradition with your dad. The Tigers did make it to the playoffs this past season; I hope these gentlemen were able to make it out to a game and enjoy it.

*

Even as I walk past,
Comerica stands
grass illuminates like a lamp post on a winter night.
Tigers season, baby
Dad and I do our yearly tradition.
The smell of the park is second to none.
But not this year.
Dad ain’t doin so well.
His knee ain’t up for it.
Love you, old man.
Maybe, just maybe, the old Tigs
will surprise us and make the playoffs
and then
maybe, just maybe,
we can go to a game
and let that tradition ride on.

“Roberto Clemente Eulogy,” by Steve Blass

Steve Blass was a teammate of Roberto Clemente from 1964 through 1972. Following Clemente’s death on December 31, 1972, Blass read the eulogy below at a memorial service for Clemente held in Puerto Rico on January 4, 1973.

*

We’ve been to the wars together
We took our foes as they came,
And always you were the leader,
And ever you played the game.

Idol of cheering multitudes;
Records are yours by sheaves
Iron of frame they hailed you:
Decked you with laurel leaves.

But higher than we hold you;
We who have known you best,
Knowing the way you came through
Every human test.

Let this be a silent token
Of lasting friendships gleam,
And all that we’ve left unspoken—
Your friends on the Pirates team.

“Anticipation,” by Philip Lawrence

I like how this poem by Philip Lawrence captures the feel of attending a baseball game. Sitting in the stands during pre-game warmups, scanning the field and the crowd, and settling in for an afternoon of fun.

*

warm May morning
early cool breeze
pock-marked bleachers
men loping lazily across
a verdant carpet as
bright-white baseballs are
snared under ice-blue skies
and as three-year-old eyes
dart unfailingly, and
sneakers kick up and down
mid-air while tiny fingers
grip the metal chair in
full anticipation