The Legend ( M V 2 )

Some say they're gone, they lived before,
In days of long ago.
When heroes did their famous deeds
In Troy and Jericho.

But oh my friends I tell you true.
There's one that lingered still.
Who did his deeds on diamond field
On distant northland hill.

There I saw, on a cool grey night,
As winds came howling through;
The Legend that I knew he was
Like none I ever knew.

They cheered and called his name out loud,
As he strolled to the plate.
And though they wanted him to swing,
The first pitch dodged its fate.

And as the Legend watched again;
The umpire called, 'Ball two.'
The catcher waved the next pitch wide,
As cowards often do.

The pitch was wide, the ball was three;
They dared not let him bat.
The catcher laughed and taunted him.
What did he think of that?

The legend smiled and looked away
As though he didn't care.
The fans began to boo and hiss
In cool grey misty air.

The pitcher tossed the fourth ball pitch,
It sailed a little wide;
It never reached the catcher's mitt,
The Legend had his pride.

A line drive such as not was seen
Before that time or since.
And some folks thought it might go out.
Alas! It hit the fence.

And as the fielder got the ball,
The tying run had scored.
The Legend strode his way to third.
The hometown faithful roared.

No sooner had the crowd sat back
Still cheering for the score,
The pitcher thrown his next pitch home;
The Legend ran once more.

The crowd rose up and blocked my view.
And as so many say,
A boy may only catch a glimpse
Of Legends in their day.

But did he score you may well ask,
As some of you might care.
Yes, he was all they said he was
In cool grey misty air.

It's really all that can be said
Of Legends in their day.
Except that I shall not forget
How my dad used to play.

GREENWOLFE 1962