she stitched and sewed all winter long
meticulously
almost feverishly
covering cork and rubber and yarn with
whatever kind of hide she could find
having promised her boys of summer
the only way they would not play ball
would be due to the most severe
inclement weather
april two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
They put Castro on waivers and
brought up his little nephew
to replace him
but the only trouble is
neither could manage
to hit their weight
The last time the southsiders came
to town they filled the seats
and then some
even the Hilton across the street
was brimming with Americans in the
balconies drinking Bucaneros
and smoking Cubans
But back home things were different
for this makeshift
patched together band of brothers
and if they have visions
of putting together a postseason run
it’ll never happen without
reigniting their fan base
that is desperate for a full-blown
revolutionary assault
including nickel hot dogs
and peso beer nights
august two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was getaway day at the coliseum
and dogs and soda and suds were
all half-price
there were lots of suits commingled
among many of the more casually enthusiastic fans
and even the public address announcer wondered
if any of the banks were open for business
some early inning runs quickly increased
concession sales
late comers rushed to the beer tent
before finding their seats
the rookie southpaw had a no-hitter
going into the fifth
and the place was all abuzz
like it hadn’t been in years
the afternoon matinée couldn’t have been
more perfect
until the roar of the crowd
called forth the god of rain delays
who just wouldn’t go away
and gradually (but with a fight)
the stadium lost all its life
as if nothing had ever happened
may two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I don’t remember autumn being this wet
she said
I blinked my eyes and looked outside
thinking to myself what an
absurd thing to say
it’s not that wet I said it’s just an illusion
it’s wet enough they canceled tonight’s
baseball game she said
real men play in the rain I said
you’re an idiot she said and walked away
I raised my glass and made a silent toast
to rid the world of absurdity
and rainy october nights
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
september’s death
rests inside a fielder’s glove
her final breaths elongated
lilting and fading
elegantly purposeful
she would not be happy
knowing what follows next
her boys of summer in full costume
exhaling the uncertain air and
parading out past twilight
clumsily swatting bats
september two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out in the field we wielded sickles
carving weeds into baselines
and summer into baseball
when word got out about the
neighborhood transformation
prospects from near and far arrived by
foot and on bike with gloves and caps
and bubble gum and bats
curious seekers trickled in
spectating the self-governed exhibitions
sitting on lawn chairs and blankets
munching popcorn and cracker jack
and sipping five cent lemonade
as the winning run crossed the plate
dinner bells could be heard
echoing through the streets
a signal of sorts to choose two new teams
followed by the first pitch to the third
and final game
june two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
at the sound of the bat
feet flee from first base to second
body suddenly veering toward the outfield
as the infielder kicks the ball
quickly picks it up and stretches and lunges
trying to tag the third out
untouched
the runner stumbles onto the bag
looks up at the tying run
crossing home plate
but wait
the second base umpire is making a ruckus
his hands waving
madly in the air
arms sweeping in circular fashion
now standing
the runner on second hangs his head
knowing the game is over
called out for running
out of the baseline
players and coaches run wildly
to and fro
either screaming ecstatically
or in angry disbelief
some thirty thousand fans
casting lots for the umpire’s head
their perfect day ruined by human conjecture
may two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
out of the fields and onto my bike
glove and spikes
strapped on the rack
I race through the cemetery shortcut
straight to the diamond
to get away was to get away
from the house of rules
where the master
made sure it was okay to disappear
as long as the work was done
transformed into a collective whole
I become one of many parts
dreaming to be the hero
while trying not to make an error
examining the stitches
hand-sewn on my pants
as well as the fastball
playing music beneath my chin
april two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she caught me smiling
and pretended she really
never glanced my way
in a bout of bravery I decided
to get up from the patio table
and walked over to hers
and asked her softly
why she had looked my way
oh you reminded me of someone
she began
someone I once met in cincinnati
have you ever been to cincinnati
she asked me
batting her eyes and using her slender
index finger to flick off the long ash
from her virginia slim
no I said
I never have but I once promised myself
I’d like to become a speck in a sea of red
at the stadium there on the ohio river
and catch a foul ball with my bare hands
that sounds like fun she said
why don’t you sit down and share with me
more of your baseball fantasies
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he sits in his lazy boy chair
and yells at the umpire on TV who
keeps getting all the calls wrong
exhaling cheap cigar smoke
while putting down old style beer
in 12 ounce gulps
in the other room his partner
in crime fixes potato salad
to go with his pastrami on rye
saddened at the thought
mister james gandolfini
has left her lonely world
june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s nothing wrong with my eyes
you son-of-a bitch sitting
in the fourth row behind the dugout
I just had them checked the other day
I bought a new jesus crucifix and replaced
the chain with gold leather lace
took it over to the nearest church
and had the padre bless the damn thing
“I watched you on television the other night” he said
“you’re uppercutting everything”
no shit sherlock I said to myself
and thanked him and got the hell out of there
that night I went oh for four and struck out three times
we lost again on getaway day and I spent
the afternoon warming the bench
cheering on the guys and happy knowing
my average wasn’t going to drop again
“you know” said the boss “you should consider
shaving off that seven-day beard
“and as soon as we get home buy your sweetie
some roses and ask her nicely if she’d kiss
the tips of your bats”
may two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
on opening day
vegas future odds
for the winning the world series
has the chicago cubs
at eighty to one
the same as the pirates
and the mariners
and right behind
the new york mets
wish I could say
I’ve got the fever
but now into my fifth decade
of blindly following
the lovable ones
I’ve since grown jaded
often pondering
if there is more to life
than mere losing
march two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
