When the world was calm
I had an old worn glove
A bat of hickory
And a love for the game
Nothing is more precious
Than a father teaching a son
About the sport of freedom
Fathers teach their sons about the game
Show them all that is sacred
Victories are to be treasured
Loses overcome
When I was strong
My arm was made of iron
I could shorten my stroke when behind
And hit frozen ropes to the opposite field
All taught by my father
When the world was naive
I heard of the Splendid Splinter
& How the Bambino was a god
Rose made his fame through heart
Pudge Fisk a hero in defeat
Red Sox fans died a bit as Buckner failed in the field
Gibson limp around the sacks
Now tell me baseball isn’t sacred
Hammerin’ Hank hit 755
Maris 61 but they couldn’t beat a legend
Rose outlasted Cobb
Then was ousted by an academic
Fighting a legend is an impossible fight
Every Summer I came alive
My father and I would talk the game
I always wore “2” in the field
In Honor to “1”
Passed balls and wild pitches
Sidearm curves and exploding sliders
There is more to this game than Balls and Strikes
I give rebirth to my dream
Of green fields and leather and wood