When striking out regularly
in Little League ball,
I repaired to my room
and entered the realm
of my fantasy baseball league.
Before computers, all I needed was
a pair of dice, spiral notebooks,
and my imagination to call to life
the United Baseball Association.
There were eight teams, two divisions
located in real cities across the land,
even a world series at season’s end.
If I couldn’t be a ballplayer
I could sound like one doing
my own play-by-play broadcasts.
Those games played in the UBA
created the bridge from my childhood
to the playing fields of adolescence.
Somewhere in my closet
the old notebooks gather dust.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME