THE pitcher knows that he could play the field Far better than the other fellows do— The shortstop knows that he should mount the hill, And send the leather whizzing, whirring through. The catcher thinks first base play is a cinch, And the first baseman yearns to wear the mask— Each player thinks he'd shine in other roles, And grows disgusted with his daily task. The fan, meanwhile, pans all the players, and The baseball writer gives both praise and roast— The players razz the fans and writers both, Consigning them where heat prevails the most. But they agree on one thing—every one, Player, or fan, or reportorial cub, Knows that the manager is just a cheese, And fairly aches to run that baseball club! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS IN ABSENCE: 7. THE SHIP by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE CHOIRMASTER'S BURIAL by THOMAS HARDY ON ENGLISH MONSIEUR by BEN JONSON FRINGED GENTIANS by AMY LOWELL THE EAGLE'S SONG by RICHARD MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMANDA BARKER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |