I wonder about minor league ballplayers;
what is it like when they get to the show?
Are they so dazzled by the lights, the fans,
that they forget the struggle they used to know,
the long bus trips through anonymous cornfields,
the next-to-nothing pay, the cheap hotels?
Or do they miss the camaraderie that comes
from being part of something so slipshod
that the team becomes a brotherhood
of infamy, a band of knowing thieves?
THE POETRY OF THE GAME