Saturday, August 29, 2009

..........remember when,

..........remember when,

First base was a trash can lid,
And second was a tree,
Third base was the clothesline pole,
And, homeplate was grass-free,

The bat was a stick, of major league size,
The ball, a sphere of plastic,
A whiffle ball, full of cracks and holes,
Covered with some kind of mastic,

The pitcher had no control of the ball,
only unerrying eyes could follow,
On rare occasions, when it was hit,
Both teams let out a holler,

Sometimes the ball would go over the fence,
The batter circled, easy and free,
But he was out at home, to his dismay,

P.S. Those were the Abner Doubledays, my friends!


wayne woodruff said...

Reminds me of when I was a "little kid" and got to play with the "big boys" on the vacant lot between our house and Charley Whartenbee's house. Occasionally they would even let me work-up to bat, but that didn't last long. Maybe those were the best baseball days??

Anonymous said...

Diane Archer Bradbury said...

Remember when...everyone did not suffer fromm writers block at the same time!

Jim Robinson said...

I think all the people who identified the poem that Wayne posted are still searching for this one. Not so easy, maybe.