play ball
I served a church outside of Boston
back when a curse was still a curse
and every year before Opening Day
Wally would stand and read aloud
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.
he crossed my mind today as the Sox
came up short in the bottom of the 11th
note to self– write your opening
day poem before the game begins
maybe hope comes easier when
you don’t know the score or maybe not
truth is next year rarely comes through
this year is the one worth living
even when a dying quail sends their
runner home and ends our chances
we only have 161 more times to
send our dreams back out there
I love a game I never played
because it’s about making errors
and going home about believing
this could be our year so*
(*now go back and read the title)
Peace,
Milton
Played a lot of baseball growing up. Gave it up around 13 & regretted it many times since.
My YMCA soccer team was recently 9th place out of 10 teams yet then made a run to the tournament final; we lost 5-4 in the last 2 minutes.
We tied it 4-4 with 3 remaining & I thought then it was ours, even if it went to extra time, because I did not relish a penalty shootout… being the goalkeeper and all. But that last goal still haunts me. Guy made a great play & great shot. But all I could do was still not enough.
Probably could write a book on all this but… there’s nothing quite like being in that moment, no matter how much it sometimes hurts.