Ode to St. Lou

Bleachers painted red, as heroes take the field;

Hope carried through April by the bats they wield—

From spring training until the season’s end

Warriors are struck down while others are on the mend.

Old favorites blend with new faces,

As the freshmen round the bases;

A future hall of famer waves goodbye

As a fearless leader leaves with a sigh—

Still the crowd roars with each pitch,

Waiting patiently for October’s niche.

Players creep from their winter homes—

Upon the field, again they roam,

The redbirds on the field stretch their wings,

Pitchers loosening arms, batters taking swings.

A familiar face, lost before opening day,

Replaced by the young arms eager to play—

Backed by players who became legends in fall,

Aided along the way as they’re given the ball.

Knees and shoulders, injuries take their tolls,

Breaking bodies but never dampening souls.

The dog days begin to set and players start to mesh.

In their heads, last year’s championship still feels fresh.

As the leaves stain red to match a nation,

The playoffs come again, eight team’s aspiration.

September magic returns, a familiar friend.

Bringing one game, a chance to evade the end—

Players sit calm on the bench, fearless eyes

They know what it means to live or die.

Knowing what it is to persevere, to fight

It all comes down to one October night,

One night where bravery comes up short,

Champagne bottles remind us of a beautiful sport—

The redbirds are headed home again,

To defend the crown, and keep their reign.

A single strike from defeat, on baited breath

A single pitch could mean the season’s death—

They show the nation they’re here to stay,

They persevere again, live another day.

But the bats grow cold, sat down compliant—

Tonight, they are David against the Giants.

There will be no parade, no more champagne,

No championship rings—all the effort feeling vain.

But on a silent October morning,

After a night of broken heart’s adorning

Heroes are welcomed home, and upon their return

They plan for next year’s Championship—the one they've earned.

DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com