by Dale Ricky
Based on notes taken during my 5-year-old Grandson's first baseball game. Edited 06/19/22.
| All alone on Home plate, |
A little man in a batting stance waits,
His heart was too big for his chest,
Firmly setting his foot and focusing his eyes,
The small white dot is on its way,
Closer and faster and bigger it spins,
A swing and a miss, the first out, he breaths,
I can see his shoulders rise and fall,
A little man bearing the weight of it all,
His heart beats faster, digging in to try again,
Here comes the small white dot,
Faster and closer and growing as it spins,
A swing and a miss, an "Awe!" from the crowd,
His eyes glisten, blinking fast and squeezing hard,
Not wanting to reveal a tear, he can hardly breathe,
He takes a step back, gripping the bat, gives the base a tap,
A little man not wanting to fail,
Here it comes again, the small white dot,
A swing and a crack, "WHAT WAS THAT?"
"Foul!" says the ump standing to the back,
A little man all alone, again, you see,
Home Base can be a lonely place to be,
How much pressure can he take?
There it is again, the small white dot flying his way,
A "BOOM" as loud as thunder he hears,
Shoulders shocked, wrist rocked,
Screams and cheers, boos and jeers,
He hesitates. He can hardly believe what he sees,
The big white spot, turning back into a small white dot!
Off to first base, he runs,
I watched him wipe his eyes and play it off,
The little boy anticipates the next to go,
He is glad it's over, glad it's done,
Readying himself, he stands eager to run,
The small white dot looks different from here,
But he knows what the next little man can see,
A small white dot getting,
Closer and faster and bigger, it spins!