This Poem was Submitted By: JAMES H SCARBROUGH On Date: 2001-03-12 22:24:38 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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THE KID

The Kid practiced hard with guts,  seldom sharing in his team's glory. But knew efforts he put forth,  would someday change that same old story. The Kid was not a starter,  most games he spent on the bench. His coach said, "I'll play you some kid,  but mostly in a pinch." He'd set in the dugout most games,  patiently waiting day after day. His glove resting on his knee eagerly,  waiting for his big chance to play. The games he played in his mind,  'A Hero' only there it seemed. Making big plays and getting key hits,  but only so, he dreamed. His big chance finally came up,  in the season's final inning. The coach said, "Kid it's up to you,  to show us what ya know 'bout winning." With a runner at third base,  the last game of the final series tied. The coach knew all his players,  and knew how hard The Kid had tried. The Kid grabbed some dirt and rubbed  his bat, then brushed it on his pants. Confident to win this series, he knew,  he wouldn't blow his final chance. Butterflies swarmed for but a second,  until he tugged on his long socks. Then he inhaled a long deep breath,  and 'dug-in' in the batter's box. He glared out at the veteran pitcher,  then flashed him a 'sudden-wink'. Then smashed the fastball over the  shortstop's head, then he saw it sink. He rounded first glancing back in time,  to watch the winning run score. Knowing he'd be invited back next season,  to play baseball again once more.

Copyright © March 2001 JAMES H SCARBROUGH


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