The Pecan Park Eagle

The gossamer wings of baseball make it suitable for flight like the heart-thing it is from the moment they pick up on the winds of our belief in the core of what this game is really all about under the blanket of human ego, greed, compulsion, and addiction we have now built upon it through the professional version. In its essence, baseball is (or once was) one of those major American runways from which the human soul first learned to soar.

Baseball’s a Thing of the Heart

by Bill McCurdy

The gossamer wings of baseball soul,

Float gently in the breeze,

Soaring high, from here to the sky,

On the winds of thoughts that please.

We grew up reflecting, wistfully back,

To moments measurable in time,

From Big Six Christy to Babe Ruth’s Sixty,

Each memory soared sublime.

Then came the voice of Barber,

To mind sketch on our brains,

The frames of sculpted sentiment,

As “the catbird seat” explains.

We bought  the face of heroes,

On colored baseball cards,

To float in what we could not see,

In the words of the radio bards.

We took these winds and ran with them,

On vacant lots and streets.

Our bodies hugged the earth’s sweet crust,

But our spirits soared in sheets.

In sheets of high plane color,

Filled in by all who soared,

Our souls reached out and found our wings,

Life’s breath was not ignored.

And now when things like drugs and greed,

Hi tech us from all corners,

Attacking all the sweet spots,

Sometimes I fear we’re goners.

Gone from the floating hope,

For a better world above,

That we once found with baseball,

Bare feet – and a ragged glove.

So fight for all worth keeping,

Baseball – gave us – our start,

There needs be no loss-weeping,

For our game’s a thing of the heart.

Tags: baseball poetry

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