Ruth, Maris, Mantle and Me

When you are
Standing
In the batter’s box
And taking
Your turn
At bat
And you are
Going for
The record
And swinging
For the fences
It doesn’t matter
If you strike out
Once or twice

What matters
Most
Is connecting
Bat to ball
And sending
That beautifully
Stitched object
Over the fences
And into
The stands

Not even
The roar
Of the crowd
Can be heard
As you listen
To your heart
Pounding
In your ears
As you are
Rounding
The bases
And heading
For home
While waving
Your hat
To acknowledge
The fans
Who really
Care
And who
Have been
Rooting you on
Through thick
And thin
Through
Good times
And bad

Through the times
When you were
In a slump
And you
Could not
Find the strike zone
Even with the
Assistance of a
Seeing Eye dog

When I was
In a slump
In a funk
And couldn’t
Find my way out
I could hear the
Boos and taunts
And
I could feel
The tossed
Brick a brats
That came
Sailing out of
The stands

Throw the bum out!
Came the catcalls
Feed him to the dogs!
Leave him on the road
As road kill!
And trade him for
Anyone
Because Anyone
Would be better than
Him!

Nothing is more
Fickle
Than the roar
And approval
Of the crowd

If you can count
Among your
Many admirers
And acquaintances
One true friend
Then consider
Yourself
The most blessed
Of all men

The imposters
Poseurs
Hangers on
And
Troglodytes
Come
In every shape
And every size
And they
Are always
Ready
To greet you
So long as you have
A paycheck
To cash

But as the old
Ditty used to say
Nobody
Loves
You
When
You’re
Down
And out

So please
Don’t worry
Or fret
My so-called
Buddies and
My so-called
Friends
I wasn’t going
To ask you
If you could
Spare
A
Dime

At least
Not just yet

Jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011