Baseball Apostate
IT was the most brutal form of rebellion,
Denying the old man, after thousands
Of hours spent as a side yard battery
As the boy grew taller and stronger
And the pitches more dangerous,
Sometimes intentionally so
That the old man’s shins purpled
And he even considered giving it up,
Paying the high school catcher
From down the street to sit on
His bean pickin chair, but the Lord
Had told him to teach his son to pitch
And he always listened to the Lord
Even when the Lord asked for crazy things.
The afternoon the boy told him on the ride home
From school, the old man couldn’t talk
At first, and the boy knew that his pitches
Could only hurt if he refused to throw them.
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