A common enough name,
he died in surgery, age 67.
Once, he was a ballplayer
for the early New York Mets.
He wasn’t a star;
he never made a lot of money,
but he had one claim to fame.
He was the player traded to the Giants
to get the legendary, but fading, Willie Mays.
Imagine your whole life summed up
in a small obit in the back pages.
What’s your value?
Bait in a baseball trade?
A commodity to be dangled?
Afterwards, Charlie left baseball,
drove a cab, drifted a bit,
never to be heard from again.
Hold your sympathy, fans.
He may be a footnote in agate type,
but he was a major league ballplayer.
How many of us can say that?
THE POETRY OF THE GAME