Ozzie Smith, Yazstremski,

Dave Stieb and Robin Yount

these men were of a special group

It's one I'm proud to count

There's players who achieve a goal

While others just achieve

They set a standard for the rest

In their heart they just believe

The game is full of heroes

Men depended on each game

They all have certain attributes

And we all know them by name

Kaline, Ripken, and Wade Boggs

The Carters, Joe and Gary

They're men who inspire us

They have a reputation tough to carry

To be a man of character

You must be better than the rest

You have to be a leader

If you ***** up, you must confess

Baseball doesn't make you one

For character's within

You just learn how to channel it

Bring it out from where it's been

Now, Cobb, Ruth and McLain

Were characters as well

But, not the kind of characters

That we are here to tell

They had a reputation

One that is not lost upon the game

But, to say that they had character

Then you would not speak their names

Tom Seaver and Clemente

Thurmon Munson, Sparky too

Were men who set examples

Of exactly what to do

To build a reputation

One that shows character and heart

Is something time consuming

It's built of many parts

To do the right thing once

Is not the thing I want to see

But to do it right consistently

That defines character to me

There are so many examples

Of players in this group

But there are ten times as many

Who miss the homer with a bloop

Baseball brings it out in you

It doesn't put it there

You show what you are made of

By definition....to be fair

Williams, Maris, Dimaggio

Robinsons, Jackie and Frank

They played with an integrity

You could take it to the bank

If you want to be a winner

Please do this if you can

Be a man of character

Not a character of a man.
..

There's this guy who constantly gives me grief online
as if I need a reminder that I am not funny or smart
that I am incapable of posting any story without his remark
as if he should impart and bestow all of social media
with his divine and seraphic academia:
what is with that?

He posts comments about how illiterate my poetry is
how it doesn't follow the rules; the do-nots and the do's
pontificates how its not properly punctuated
as if I should give up altogether and just shine shoes
and forget trying to construct sentences
just wander in the carousel of nebula's
eternally seeking the tentacle of enemas:
what is with that?

This guy enjoys winding me up like a persistent hobby
the reverent devilment of sadistic entitlement
pushing my head under water for a digital baptism
that I should thank him for his rhetoric enlightenment
as if he was blessed with a correspondence talisman:
what is with that?

This isn't even a poem.
I am letting off steam like an overused kettle
fed up of his mortar forever rammed in my pestle
the temples are raging and my brain is just draining
to explode on cue on the next digital heckle
the cracked and broken vessel
into a vengeful steam-driven projectile:
what is with that?

This, < here > , is my only escape
and creative cathartic vent
I'll post this lament
with the stench of discontent
and tag his name and then just wait
for his feverish malcontent
that I should dare to
prevent his God-like dissent:

memo to self
to a digital antagonist
and his verbose verbal cyst
and the keyboard of twists
when you push
sometimes you get
a big shove back
so don't be surprised
by my riposte
and this poetic attack.

The kid could throw, he really could throw

Scouts were watching back in high school

Arm like a rocket and vision like an owl

Smart too, had all the tools

He could pick apart a defense

He just knew what he could do

But he could throw, the kid could throw

He wasn't coached, the kid just knew

He was fourteen when first spotted

Junior ball in  Eastern Michigan

Throwing footballs, Setting records,

Just to break them all again

His mind was agile like his feet

He just knew how plays should go

He was gonna knock them dead in college

He was a sure thing for the show

He made the coaches look amazing

They never, ever  called a play

He'd run the team alone while playing

He knew just what he had  to say

Three perfect years in highschool

Undefeated every year

State champions...why naturally

The kid just had no fear

He was a leader with that football

He was a man amongst the boys

He sure could pick apart a defense

He broke 'em up like little toys

In third year scouts were knocking

Every college from the East

Full rides without a question

The schools all wanted this young beast

He settled on a team with promise

He knew he could help them win it all

The scouts and coaches stood in awe as

The **** kid could throw that ball

He kept his marks up to the level

That he needed to stay around

He wrote up plays instead of homework

Some in the air, some on the ground

The kid could throw the ****** football

The NFL already knew

He'd already broken most school records

The scouts just knew what he could do

It took two years to make a bowl game

On TV beneath the lights

The country knew of the boy wonder

And they would see it Sunday night

The one thing without question

Was the rocket they called his arm

The coaches built a line around him

They would keep him safe from harm

In third year he decided

He was turning pro that year

The pro scouts all knew of him

The price to get him would be dear

Deals were made through out the summer

Teams were phoning every day

The school was upset he was leaving

The league knew he was set to play

Two first round picks and a reciever

Went to Detroit for his rights

The Lions had the chance to grab him

But the Texans had him in their sights

The Texans proudly took him

He was gonna lead them all the way

The way that this kid threw a football

In Texas they sang "Happy Day"

Our father who are't in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

We lay this boy to rest before us

Before he even played a game

A celebration in a men's club

The boy had come so ****** far

When shots were fired in the crowd there

Two gunmen drove by in a car

He had the world in his possession

Man the kid could throw, really throw

But, fate had chose a different story

How good he was we'll never know

I passed myself the other day

Walking down the street

Heading back from where I'd come

Just a mirage from excess heat

I knew where I was going

I was faced the other way

I was leaving for no reason

I was not prepared to stay

It seems my mind was wandering

And that is what I saw

Just a daydream for a second

As it snuck out my brains door

I focused and I stopped myself

Turned around and headed back

I enjoyed my time out wandering

But I'm glad I'm back on track

If you pass yourself while walking

It's okay for just a while

Just wave and say hello to you

You might answer with a smile

A little trip away at times

A daydream makes the day

As long as you come back from it

And you don't decide to stay

As long as you're out walking

When you pass you on the street

Just be thankful you're not driving

That would be a dangerous feat

Sometimes going backwards

Takes us where we want to go

Going backwards takes us forwards

To places we don't know

I passed myself the other day

I know that I had fun

I hope you pass yourself one day

And I'm not the only one.

The day arrived, the sun was out
The sky was perfect, calm
All was as it should be
No resistance 'fore the storm
A winter gone, a spring in bloom
Things were as things should be
Fresh paint and banners hung out
For all the world to see
Bunting just the way it was
On days like this before
It showed off baseball's history
No less and nothing more
The lines were crisp and dedicated
The foul lines and the fair
The team logos were painted
Silence hung in the spring air
A church for fifty thousand
To revere this game they'll see
And if each single seat is filled
There'll be fifty thousand forty three
The boys of summer own this field
New history shall be made
While fans scream for their favorites
As the game is being played
A chess game on such pristine grass
At this park it's real
At others you will find that it
Is plastic...and lacks feel
The players, some are new as well
They were not here last year
The owners changed the line ups so
Your favorites are not here
Fathers, sons, and daughters
Share this circus every spring
It's a rite of family passage
To most a holy thing
New jerseys, hats and banners
Showing where alliegance lies
There is no joy in Mudville
As each person chooses sides
The umpires, too, begin anew
They must be on the ball
Today's game is most scrutinized
You cannot miss a call
The sense of pomp and circumstance
In this annual ceremony
Breaks out all of the rituals
In a loud cacophony
The teams announced and anthems sung
Color parties raise the flags
This is what baseball's all about
Home plate and three new bags
The smell of ******* jack and beer
Hot dogs and candy corn
Soon start to infiltrate the park
And they break up this fresh morn
The players sit below now
Waiting for the game to start
Cliche speeches break the air
As the managers play their part
It's time to all get ready
Put this years "uni" on
And to rid your self of buttlerflies
And get that feeling gone
You check yourself before hand
Make sure that the outfits good
And you go over the ground rules
And know exactly what you should
Your'e as important to this game now
You are the holder of their fate
For your job is most important
You let the patrons though the gate
The actors in this rite of spring
Are varied in their roles
From players, umps and concessioneirs
They all make baseball whole
The opening of each season
Shows off every single team
From the players out there on the field
To the ones behind the scenes.
You put your best foot forward
Because you want them all to say
That baseball is just special
Because of Opening Day.

I did a little research work
And you know I'm glad to say
I found out about my history
On ancestry.ca
I typed my name and there it was
A family tree of sorts
With leaves appearing eveywhere
My family and their warts
There were places on the listing
That I had never been
And the names of the all the people
Well, most....I'd never seen
My grandad married seven times
My nanny married four
My mum was not my mother
And my dad...was out the door
The leaves kept showing up there
Beside each and every name
I sat there for eight hours
I was really glad I came
England, Scotland, Middle East
Nevada and Wales Too!
It seemed that all my family
Moved when the rent was due
I had cousins in Zimbabwe
I had cousins in Peru
They were scattered all through Italy
There were some in China too.
I learned things that I never knew
Tales of family and their kids
I  learned of all their countries
And of all the things they did
Four hundred names in all I saw
And each name had a leaf
I didn't know we were that big
It was truly beyond belief
The pictures too were something else
People, places now long gone
There were photos too of Mexico
And my dear old Uncle Juan
Tomorrow, though I  will sit down
And I'll do this all again
But this time I will make **** sure
That I don't forget the "n".