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Open Poetry #16
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David2
Member
since 2000-03-22
Posts 407


0 posted 2001-09-30 01:13 PM


A Moment In The Sun

Some time ago I met a gent,
Sam Ryan was his name,
Quite tall and tan, with weathered face;
Said baseball was his game.

For fifteen years he'd done his best
To make it to The Show;
For playing ball was in his blood,
And all he cared to know.

But time waits not for any man,
And skills once sharp must fade.
Sam knew that soon he'd have to leave
The game he'd always played.

So when the final day arrived
To set aside his dream,
He got the call that told him he
Had made the big league team.

Their owner was a boyhood pal
Who'd heard that Sam was through.
A ticket to the big leagues was
The least that he could do.

This game would make his place secure
In baseball's record book,
As proof to any one who dared
To take the time to look.

He felt a little sad because
He knew he wouldn't play.
But thoughts like these would not begin
To spoil his special day.

And when the day he'd waited for
And worked for hard drew near,
He knew he'd found the perfect way
To end a long career...

He took his place upon the field
And helped the pitchers throw.
He treasured every toss and catch
While basking in the glow.

The wait seemed an eternity,
Until he heard the call;
Then, as a tear escaped his eye,
The umpire yelled "Play Ball!"

Through every inning played that day
His teammates tried their best;
And deep inside he felt the pride
Swell fast within his chest.

Then, as the game drew near its end
(Much to the team's chagrin)
They knew without some help they'd have
But little chance to win.

They needed four to win the game
With one out left to call;
And though the bags were loaded then,
Their hope, at best, was small.

They weren't quite dead, for due to swing
Was Jake "The Hit Man" Hoak;
The best they had was up to bat,
And left them full of hope.

But, as he bounded toward the plate,
He tripped as if on cue.
The crack was heard throughout the stands---
His ankle snapped in two.

"I'm sorry, Skip," was all he said,
"It looks like I'm done in."
His face contorted from the pain;
His countenance was grim.

The coach let out the sigh one sighs
When forced at last to yield.
The only chance they had to win
Lie broken on the field.

Now Sam was all the coach had left
To tempt the hands of fate,
And with a silent prayer he sent
Our hero to the plate.

At once a universal gasp
Arose among the crowd.
They knew that Ryan had no chance,
And murmured it aloud.

The walk between the bench and home
Seemed like a country mile,
But Ryan slowly made his way
To face his final trial.

"Just let me hit the ball, dear Lord,"
Was all that Ryan asked.
He hoped, but wasn't sure if he
Was equal to the task.

The pitcher held the ball secure,
And ground it on his hip.
With menace in his eyes, and with
A snarl upon his lip.

He thought he'd show this old man up,
The good for nothin' lout;
He'd play with him a little while
Before he got him out.

Alone at home Sam Ryan stood,
Consumed with fear and dread,
When to his great surprise, the ball
Came zooming toward his head.

He hit the dirt flat on his back,
And lingered there awhile;
Then slowly rose and brushed himself
With dignity and style.

The bat seemed somehow lighter now;
His legs felt stronger too;
And when he felt his muscles twitch,
He knew his time was due.

With ease he stepped back in the box;
With calm he stood his ground.
"Just throw the ball my way again!"
He gestured toward the mound.

The pitcher fired the best he had---
The perfect pitch, it seemed.
"No one could hit a ball like that,"
Was what the crowd had deemed.

Sam's arms unleashed a vicious swing
That thundered through the air;
The blast was heard for miles around,
And echoed everywhere.

Upon the crowd a silence fell
While waiting out its flight.
A joyous cry erupted as
It vanished out of sight.

He trotted 'round the bases with
An elegance and grace.
The only show of pride was from
The smile upon his face.

Though fans might soon forget this day,
Sam Ryan never will.
Those wondrous cheers were meant for him;
He says he hears them still.

Just once to hit the ball that far,
He'd dreamed, but never done;
But on this day at last he'd gained
His Moment in the Sun...



© Copyright 2001 David William La Belle - All Rights Reserved
catalinamoon
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543
The Shores of Alone
1 posted 2001-09-30 01:57 PM


Wonderful story, we should all have that moment in the sun, at least once..
Sandra

Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648

2 posted 2001-09-30 06:44 PM


I remember this from the first time around, David. Fabulous! Good to see you again!
Lone Wolf
Member Ascendant
since 2000-03-16
Posts 5842
Lansing, MI USA
3 posted 2001-09-30 06:52 PM


Excellent story, David.  Very captivating and easy to read.  Much enjoyed!!  

All writing comes
by the grace of God.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Daniel J D
Senior Member
since 2000-10-01
Posts 1471
Hillcrest, Queensland, Australia
4 posted 2001-09-30 07:06 PM


David, well done, a fine write.

Respond to my call and let the waves of my heart fill your life with the wonders of love
(Daniel J D)

Tracey
Member Elite
since 2001-08-29
Posts 2808
where insanity meets breeding
5 posted 2001-09-30 10:04 PM


This story captivated me from start to finish (and I don't even like baseball   ). Excellent write

If she who dies with the most toys wins, then can I have some toy boys please?

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