redsmetz
08-08-2006, 06:17 AM
It's such an emotional game, baseball is. I was trying to find some words for what it brings, what our hopes are, etc. I finally game to the Poetry Page on baseball-almanac.com (http://baseball-almanac.com/poems.shtml) and came across this one. We all know the emotion. I think this is what I like about baseball and its beauty and its long season, one game and then the next and finally "next year". Even a horrid game like last night, and you hope and cajole and finally realize that one this particular night, it's not to be. But there's always that sentiment shown in the final stanza of this poem, the desperation of the hope.
The Cure
Written by Katharine Harer © in 2002
Published: Line Drives (2002)
baseball is a good antidote for death
where else do we mutter belief scream
hope over green grass bathed
in light where else do we coach the best
out of one another
it's all right baby
you can do it
settle down guy
you'll be okay just hang in there
we need you buddy
we need a spark
be the ignitor man
our whispered pleas combine over rows
of seats and peanut calls and pour into the ears
of our boys fixing them
with our best hope the best we have to give
nowhere else do we do this together
reverently from some untapped place
in our chests saved for our children
and our lovers we thought we'd used it up
but listen to us croon making our voices
carry just the right mixture
of love and demand
our throats are sore
the peanut shells under our feet flattened
from jumping up and sinking down again
our hearts extended
pumping belief
into this one afternoon
you can do it
you can do it for us
do it now come on
do it now
The Cure by Katharine Harer © in 2002
The Cure
Written by Katharine Harer © in 2002
Published: Line Drives (2002)
baseball is a good antidote for death
where else do we mutter belief scream
hope over green grass bathed
in light where else do we coach the best
out of one another
it's all right baby
you can do it
settle down guy
you'll be okay just hang in there
we need you buddy
we need a spark
be the ignitor man
our whispered pleas combine over rows
of seats and peanut calls and pour into the ears
of our boys fixing them
with our best hope the best we have to give
nowhere else do we do this together
reverently from some untapped place
in our chests saved for our children
and our lovers we thought we'd used it up
but listen to us croon making our voices
carry just the right mixture
of love and demand
our throats are sore
the peanut shells under our feet flattened
from jumping up and sinking down again
our hearts extended
pumping belief
into this one afternoon
you can do it
you can do it for us
do it now come on
do it now
The Cure by Katharine Harer © in 2002