He digs in his spikes, gives his shoulders a flitter
Examines the diamond to deposit some litter
In the form of a single, or of a big hitter
Puts the bat in his arms and starts to get bitter

The pitcher knows better than to mess with this guy
On the back of his card his statistics tell why
But he has exhausted all empty bases
They are winning by one, and he’s one of their aces

The catcher is worried…the bases are loaded
Silent all night, the opponents exploded
He’s seen this before and the ending’s not pretty
But they have the lead; it is time to get witty

The hitter at bat is a dangerous man
But he can be had if he’s dealt the right hand
A high and tight fastball needs to be thrown
At his wrists, you can’t miss, just set the right tone

That’s it, it’s decided, and he flashes the sign
To a strapping young lad who can throw ninety-nine
Right away he agrees, he is easy to please
And he nods more agreement as he flexes his knees

The batter’s been planning…hasn’t noticed a thing
He’s seen all the stuff his opponent can bring
Which is the pitch which slugger expects?
Or which is the pitch that he wants…better yet

He wants fastball inside, thigh-high would be perfect
And if it’s down the middle he would not object
Instead he would swing, like a man on a mission
And lately he’s hot, he hasn’t been missing

Ace lifts his leg, it is time to deliver
A high and tight fastball that cause most men to shiver
His aim is on target, his body aligned
He has reproduced the design

The catcher’s excited, it’s right where he wanted
A live speedy fastball, in off the corner
The slugger had stridden as if he was looking
For something more out off the plate than this booking

He doesn’t offer, it’s not to his liking
But the message was made by the way of some psyching(lightning)
The hitter now knows that he cannot catch up
To a strike high and tight if he does not adjust

So slightly he’s shifted a bit of his weight
He has opened a portal, small piece of the plate
A low outside fastball that catches the black
Would most likely be taken, and the count would come back

Slugger regroups from the gas in the kitchen
Looks out to the mound at the guy who is pitchin’
Tries to imagine if he’ll see that again
Hopes it is lower so that he can send…

It into the darkness and win this big game
It would enshrine him into the hall-of-fame
He’s ready for greatness, no fear of this pitch
He’s got a plan, and he’s got an itch

He retraces his steps and sets up the same way
Yogi can sense this, and that’s part of the play
Sure of the call, he sends Ace the message
Already decided he sends back his blessings

He wastes little time and breaks from the stretch
Attacks with his legs as if to play fetch
But he is not running, his stride is controlled
Lets go of the ball, and the umpire’s sold

STRIKE!!!  He calls out, our batter chagrins
It was a strike; he just did not give in
And now he must face any number of pitches
He knows that Ace throws, from a number of spaces

He doesn’t think Ace will throw another fastball
But he wants to be ready and he can’t be too careful
He can’t be TOO patient, this guy’s throwing too well
He expands his strike zone and his feet show and tell

What he’s expecting…he’s changed his approach
He’ll go after a pitch that is out on the broach
He’s ready to cover the outside it seems
And anything spinning, he’ll shatter the seams

In a nutshell, inside is the only WEAK spot
But what a WEEK slugger’s had, and he’s still smoking hot
He’s turned on the fastball, he’s reversed the curve
He’s lined up the middle, and he’s got the nerve

The catcher rests low and outside at this time
He hasn’t budged…in no rush to flash signs
He feels that the batter is poised low and away
A little late timing is the batter’s next play

So another brush in for a strike might just work
He pumps his right leg with a serious jerk
Puts down one finger and pulls it hard right
To emphasize urgency, indicates high and tight

But a strike would be nice, so after the flash
He’s posed on his haunches right down the middle
Subtly silent his right foot is placed
Under the spot that he wants the pitch pasted

Ace is the place, he nods his head yes
It’s the 5000th pitch in which he’s been impressed
With his battery mate’s keen intuition
There were several others that he’s put to omission

He checks out the runners to set up the defense
Pauses a second to allow some pretense
Rumbles his chest which begins the process
Glutemas-maximus starts to regress

He’s gathering power to push toward the inside
As he releases Bench becomes the bull’s-eye
It explodes with a passion, a three-digit sinker
Slugger looks out, ”wow, what a stinker”

He was stunned, he was beat
But he’ll never give up
If he swung at that heat
His bat would blow up

One and two is the count, they are one pitch away
There are fans in the stands who won’t sit down to pray
The three in our story at the end of careers
Who’ll get the glory and who’ll shed the tears?

Ace has a slider that’s as good as the juice
And his juices are flowing…his body’s real loose
Slugger is worried…which pitch will Ace choose
Will they go away when inside just can’t lose?

The hill and the backstop go for the latter
This time however, they’ll climb the ladder
Adrenaline pumping, our hurler begins
This is the pitch that can win

He lets go another with a hiss and a tail
And a mean streak with teeth that says it can’t fail
But it’s fully loaded and starts to set sail
It’s headed for netting…there’s a run in the pail

But NO! with a stab only gold gloves can make
The receiver, the believer, can erase a mistake
He DID!  Holy Cow!  A huge sigh and a hush
Immediately after…returns with a rush

The complexion has changed, Ace looks a bit rattled
Campy calls time and he gets on his saddle
Trots to the mound with the ball he just saved
Unlike his pitcher, he is feeling quite brave

That’s his job, that’s his deal, that’s his part on this team
So when he gets there he smiles, and Ace lets out some steam
After some giggles they have chosen the slider
And our catcher wants to block it, that’s why they call him the Spider

He’s got range past the boxes, and he smothers bad pitches
Gets in front of the ball, ‘cause he reads all the stitches
Sprawls out like a frog, his style bewitches
It’s amazing how he jerks and twitches

With a snarl through his mask, he lays down more signs
With the fielders informed, Johnny unwinds
He uncorks a tornado that kicks up some dirt
Like Spider wanted, a little dessert

In the desert to be sure, but Big Poppy won’t budge
This BLOCK in the story is all about Pudge
Two wild pitches that never became
Let’s get on with the game

So now it’s Three-Two, just like everyone dreams
There’s more than just fifty who are part of these teams
These are the moments that competition inspires
The type of events that a hero requires


Ace is going crazy
“I can’t believe I’m three and two.., what am I going to do?
I better throw a freakin’ strike, man.
I have to throw a freakin’ strike right here.
What if he hits it?
Man…this guy is good and I just lost him!
NO I DIDN”T,  its three-two and he was bad on my fastball.
Gotta go there. Inside fast ball.
Gotta go there.”


“Well, he better throw a strike.
No more messing around.
Gimme a good one Ace.
High and inside, Bud.
Right here. Right now.


“All right man. He’s gotta come at me.
I’m ready. If you throw a slider, you got me.
Lets’ see the heat!
C’non…Bring It!”


“You guys ready?…