The Base Ballist

Running…running…heart pounding-
you can hardly breathe.
Dust in your eyes and as you slide,
the man in blue pronounces your fate.

Sticky and hot, the sweat pours down your face,
hatred in your eyes.
Everything is riding on you-
your arm, your hand, your fingers, your grip.
Every play runs through your mind.
Finally you shake ‘em off.
You nod your head and release.
Immediately you know the call
before the ball gets to the other side of the battery.

Walk it up, walk it up, Kid!
Dive, jump, charge, back up!
Back-back-back, left-left, a little to the right.
Routine play coming your way.
Get ready, be ready; don’t be another E.

This is no guessing game now, just a gamble.
Good eye, Mate!  Find your pitch.
He’s meat on the mound
trying to make you look bad on paper.
Don’t swing at that!  Humm now, Kid!
Make this one count—(1), (2), (3), or (HR).
It’s okay, new life now.  Base knock, Kid!
Here it comes, hurling at you.
Focus, focus.  Keep your eye on the ball.
Take your base, BB.
Next one F9, you went 2-4.
Two down an’ the runt’s up shaking.
Did he }| or K?

Step it up, be a leader, and take your hacks.
Stop talkin’ junk or you’ll be trash on the scoreboard.
Keep your head out of the books;
streaks and stats ain’t nothing when you’re trying to win.
You’re a team, not a star, not a U.
Hey you on the bench, talk it up an’ chatter in there.
Behold, the joys of the dugout, win or lose.
No complaining here in our house on the edge of the field;
Just do what you’re told, go where you’re put.
Thank God everyday for even one at bat,
one pitch, one catch you get to play.
You’re what the rest of us wish we could be,
everything we dream of.
You are the Base Ballist.