eyes laser-focused
on the knuckle curve
crossing the outside lower half
home plate umpire more than emphatic
his fists doing the one-two jab
taking the batter out without
ever knowing what hit him
may two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Judith Mary Waters, née Doyle (1936-2025)
My mother loved baseball
which is why I do as well
She used to listen to the Cubs games
on KSTT AM radio when she
was a tomboy growing up in Davenport
When I was in little league
she was my team’s scorekeeper
All the way through high school
I don’t remember her ever missing
any of my games
If there is one thing most people
didn’t know about my mother
is that she batted left-handed
For whatever reason
I truly admired her for that
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so I was on the mound
for the very first time
wearing dodger blue
having a stare down contest
with the three-legged catcher
sixty feet south of me
he kept calling for fastballs
but all I could deliver
were sliders or spitballs
all impossible to hit
most likely because
my fingers were on fire
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I always thought twinkle twinkle little star
was a song about baseball
—the diamond in the sky
a destination where former greats would play
after moving on from their game
once graduating from little league
my thought process evolved into imagining
how the field was expanding
the players including all the young rock stars
who kept dying w/some regularity
right in the prime of their lives
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s mid october
& they’re still playing baseball
whether streaming online
or at triple play park
where they added a fourth diamond
two seasons ago
the players seen on devices
are real grown men
getting paid for what they do
in front of tens of thousands
while all the others
are simply boys & girls
running the bags on a
saturday morning
it’s getting colder outside
but that’s not stopping any of them
from donning their unis
& playing their hearts out
long before the first snowfall
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
this is the summer
the one that never ends
where boys & girls play ball
well into the night
this is the summer
the one made of dreams
where time becomes obsolete
the skies ever bright
this is the summer
the one for all the ages
little legs effortlessly in motion
circling the bases
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
let’s break it up boys
and so the huddle at the mound
gives way to an impending fastball
the home plate umpire calls it a strike
—he’s a regular douchebag
the stadium is jam-packed
copping a buzz on bud light & goose island
the chisox are back on top
taking on the loveable losers in comiskey
there’s a good chance of rain
but there’s nary an umbrella in sight
this place doesn’t have a retractable roof
—that’s just plain wrong
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the hit got through
another run scored
the boo birds came out
in full force
cageless & marching
to the concessions
from the jumbotron
[and for the third time]
they heard harry caray
singing his heart out
people swaying & pointing
toasting to the dude
some saying they thought
he was dead
it started as a day game
that never quite ended
the full moon high behind the clouds
street lights flickering
backup generators humming
keeping all hopes alive
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve
“You’ve got to have an attitude if you’re going to go far in this game.”
Bob Gibson
He’s gotta keep ‘em off balance
using his head as well as his arm
mixing it up north & east
and west & south
consistently changing speeds
—letting the ball fly from various
release points
and mostly importantly
never showing them
the whites of his eyes
june two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s the bottom of the eighth
and the home team
is down by one
the partial crowd
infused by fake news & alcohol
refuses to deny
that back-to-back homers
will send them into delirium
may two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
It was just the two of us
and a field of overgrown weeds
an hour after sunup
in the garage
his father had two kinds of sickles
probably handed down
from previous generations
wooden handles restained (how many
times over the years)
sharp as a tack & anxious
to get back to work
and so back to work we went
turning the big field of weeds
into a ball diamond
sickle carving out the dimensions
dual lawn mowers
working out the finer details
measuring ninety feet between the bags
sixty feet from pitching rubber
to home plate
by noon the grapevine
had attracted the best players
from within a ten mile radius
one by one & two by two
(or some other kind of combination)
they arrived by foot or bike
or special envoy
by the time one twenty rolled around
the first pitch was thrown
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she’s not watching the game
cold beer in her glove hand
new beau on her left
small device streaming
atop crossed knee
he’s keeping score in his head
far behind on the conversation
hesitating how to record
a balk or the stealing of first base
there is mass exhilaration
when the whole place erupts
by way of a grand salami
suddenly they find themselves
deep in the crosshairs
august two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’m not interested
in your conspiracy theories
I’m mainly focused
on craft beer & baseball
although your fantasies
are intriguing
I’m spending the bulk
of my time
stealing signs &
putting runners in motion
although I admit your
methods are effectively wild
my free time is spent
at the nearest taproom
watching the board
& seriously considering
trading on paper
july two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
going into the eighth
anything could happen
for you see
the fat lady has yet to sing
yogi nods to casey
who pulls the starter
& that’s when it all starts
to unravel
the say-hey kid
dancing around second
in the right field bleachers
all the fans boisterously sing
ninety-nine bottles
of beer on the wall
of course it all comes
crashing down
when mister coffee bounces
into a double entendre
thereby passing the torch
onto number seven himself
june two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
all I wanted to do was play baseball
but world wars got in the way
throwing fastballs & sliders
big fat curveballs exploding in the sky
the airwaves were full of danger
yankees overtaking bases
bearded men in kneehigh red socks
slaughtering the entire field
of course it’s justified by orthodoxy
IEDs & suicide squeezes
inside foxholes older men in uniforms
chew tobacco & flash signs
though they’re waving me in
instincts tell me I must be dead to right
may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jimmy dugan said it best
about not crying
during a specific activity
I could have used that advice
back when I was a little leaguer
back when real life was
easily distinguishable
from this present day reality
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 