An Old Goal: Send the baseball poem I wrote to the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame

I was looking back at some of my old goals and thinking about how easy/difficult they might be to accomplish now.  There is one thing in particular that I had wanted to do for nearly two decades and never done.  It would not be a particularly difficult thing to do so I made an effort to this week.  I wrote a poem about baseball (my favorite sport) back in 1994 when I was and 18 year old high school senior at William Floyd High School in Mastic, NY.    The poem was written as part of Mrs. Gaspari's Creative Writing Class.  I had always wanted to send the poem to the Baseball Hall of Fame and hope that they might consider it as part of a collection if they had a fan poetry collection.  I'm not even sure if it would merit consideration, but my real hope was that they might at least humor me and ask me to send it.

Rather than send the poem, without knowledge of whom or where exactly I should send it to, I decided to e-mail them the poem and ask them if they would like a hard copy of it.  If they respond I will let you know the response.  At any rate, I'm glad that I finally took the step to see if they might have a place for it, and perhaps someday some kid might read it and get a laugh from it. 

Here is the poem I wrote back when I was still a young Jon Bear on February 21 of 1994...

Farmer James' Field

Out in the field down by old farmer James'
I recall with a grin the town baseball games.
The barley was dry and cracked was the walk
as my teeth ground persistent on a celery stalk.

My fingers with a rosiny goo met my cap
and the seat of my pants was all sticky with sap.
At third base I rocked from my heals to my toes,
while the dragonflies flew with a buzz past my nose.

This was my chance!  My very first game!
No other feeling in life's quite the same.
The prettiest girls from the town watched us play
and now was my chance to impress Jamie Grey.

I was eleven and she seventeen,
but I didn't mind all the years in between.
Some people have said that love makes you blind
and while looking at Jamie, at my head the ball lined.

My body lay crippled in a red, bloody heap.
I exaggerate slightly... I just looked asleep.
When out from the stands rushed my mother in fear.
"Oh my poor baby!" cried my mom in my ear.

I felt so embarrassed as my face turned bright red.
So I left my eyes closed and thought I'd play dead.
But now I look back and reflect on the days
when down at third base I made all those great plays.

And out in the field down by old farmer James',
I recall with a grin the town baseball games.

Jon Bear (from February 21, 1994)