Beneath the stands, as they pound and hum,

In the bowels of the park and

Haunted halls,

There are dim lights and vendor smells of

Popcorn and cotton candy.

The sound the player's cleats make as they

Click the concrete.

The white of their uniforms

Brightening the dullness –

The sound of the Anthem plays

Muffled in the distance.  The crowd cheers

Ready to hear "Play Ball!"

 

On the concourse, people mill,

Purchasing food for America's game.

Hot dogs and peanuts, a pretzel with salt;

Both teams take the field,

Inning one to start.

 

I come to greet you, say hello;

We sit, take in the aura that is

Baseball.

Men and women, children and seniors;

We talk Palmer and Brooks, Ripken and Robinson –

No-hitters of yore.

The scoreboard flashes an "H" for a hit.

 

This job in baseball

Behind the scenes working for a ballclub –

Anonymous in ways, yet a second home,

Offers joy in many ways,

Magic and a love –

A love of the game.