I've never written a baseball poem, For Reuben Jackson, who has

I didn't even make the seventh grade girls' third team substitute. Still can't throw straight. Last Easter, scrub game with the kids, I hit a foul right through Captain Kelly's French doors, had to pay. Still, these sultry country nights when I watch the dark ballet of players sliding into base, I shout ``Safe! He's safe! He's home!'' and so am I.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK