Baseball Stuff

I'm not a big baseball fan. I enjoy going to a game now and then, generally for one of two reasons: first, if the son of a friend of mine is playing, I'm interested; second, just for the novelty of a now-and-then experience. Below are a couple of baseball things that crossed my field of vision in the last couple of days.

Here's a wonderful little video one of my White Water Band mates sent out via email yesterday. You'll see a talented athlete performing an amazing stunt and a pretty girl. Best of all, the athlete and the pretty girl are one and the same. So, check out this catch!

The following poem appeared as part of today's Writer's Almanac. It's by Donald Hall, from his book White Apples and the Taste of Stone (2006). The picture it paints is a poignant contrast to that in the video. I see myself in this old outfielder much more readily than anywhere near the ballgirl.

Old Timers' Day

When the tall puffy
figure wearing number
nine starts
late for the fly ball,
laboring forward
like a lame truckhorse
startled by a gartersnake,
—this old fellow
whose body we remember
as sleek and nervous
as a filly's—

and barely catches it
in his glove's
tip, we rise
and applaud weeping:
On a green field
we observe the ruin
of even the bravest
body, as Odysseus
wept to glimpse
among shades the shadow
of Achilles.