There was baseball in the September of ‘73.
Pitchers, catchers, infielders, outfielders
down on the farm team entertained
major league hopes of the pennant clinch.
Triple-A fans in the stands
stood ankle deep with peanut shell floats on a river of spilled beer
and punctuated performances of players on the field
with an alternated chorus of cheers and jeers:
Cheered for the line drive shot into the outfield.
Cheered for that blistered off the wall double.
Cheered for the sacrifice fly – one run, tied score.
Jeered as the batter struck out.
Cheered as the runner on third stretched toward home.
Jeered at the pop up to first base.
Cheered as the league leading hitter stepped up to the plate.
Jeered as the pitcher on the mound shook off the sign from his catcher,
a changeup.
Fan frenzy drowned out the crack of the bat.
Jubilation ovation followed the ball’s championship flight
over the right field fence into the status of a glory day.

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