“One of the greats … known for catching, hitting
and base stealing.”

Obituary, L.A. Times, June 1, 2002

July of 1948,
the bombshell, “All the Way, Faye,”
a speedy blonde who love to slide
and livened games with handstands,
was batting for the Peoria visitors
against the local Rockford team.

In protest of a called third strike,
she heaved her bat toward third,
eliciting a round of boos from fans
who yelled, “Poor sport, hothead!
Ump, give her the thumb!”

She stepped away from home,
scanned the boisterous crowd,
posing for a moment statuesque,
a mid-thigh skirt showcasing shapely legs.

The inning over, she jogged to center field,
head high and shoulders back,
a Venus in the axis of her universe.
Whatever love meant to a 12-year old,
I was smitten on that day.