I miss baseball games on radio,
listening on my portable set
to the silken Southern drawl of Red Barber.
I didn’t need an 80 inch screen,
instant replay and too young announcers
who over-broadcast games today.
Then, I could imagine parks
in Chicago, St. Louis and Pittsburgh,
while reading comics under the covers
as the game hovered all around me.
Baseball, they say now is much too slow,
but it was fast enough for me.
My heroes could remain heroes
without the public spectacle of
crotch-grabbing, spitting, and
other off-the-field steroid stories.
Even the beer commercials were fun then.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME