Most of us are not baseball stars.
In fact, we hardly approach fame
in our normal, humdrum lives.
We work, pay mortgages, raise kids,
without even the hint of any applause.
We slog through our days in near silence,
in near obscurity, in near anonymity.
The only one who truly understands
is the indefatigable long-relief pitcher
who puts in his time and effort
so responsibly, so unobtrusively
that everyone can eventually go home
to down a beer or two.
He punches his innings with resignation,
much like the factory worker who
day after day resolutely clocks in and out.
Both are to be honored for their fortitude;
both keep the gears turning –
in the game, in life,
both unrecognized by those
who remember neither
their names or numbers.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME