(contributed by Andrew Paris)
Summer of ’69.
5-years-old.
Clad in cap, dungarees and undershirt.
Backyard ballpark.
Chain-link contains canopied trees
pulling lush grass greenery,
spreading cyan to sky.
Long pencil yellow plastic.
Skinny bat paired with hollow white ball.
Daddy tosses the Wiffle,
whistling through the air.
A southpaw,
I stand to the left.
4-year-old brother takes turns from the right.”
Swinging for the fences.
Mommy instamatically captures the moment.
We move in a year to a house on a circle.
You’re going to love the greenbelt, Daddy says.
Like the Riddler on Batman?
Just you wait and see.
New home sits on looped road.
Next door neighbor has built-in pool.
We don’t.
So this is our yard?
That’s the greenbelt, Daddy says, pointing.
Ahh, now I get it.
Green space surrounding ring of homes.
Vast enough for baseball field,
or two.
A dream come true.
Daddy comes home with trunkful of sporting goods.
Brand new balls for bouncing, catching, kicking, hitting, throwing.
Buckets of used baseballs.
Scuffed, grass stained cowhide,
stitches starting to unravel.
Couple wooden bats.
One Bobby Murcer ball glove.
Spalding EZ-FLEX for left-handed thrower …
Me!
NY Yankee Bobby becomes my favorite player.
Topps baseball card said, Bobby’s idol always was Mickey Mantle,
whom he succeeded.
The Mick,
my uncle Don’s favorite player,
succeeded Joe DiMaggio.
Joe D,
my father John’s favorite player.
Generations of centerfielders.
Family of Yankees fans.
On vacation we go
next summer.
Cooperstown.
To see Babe Ruth, mommy says,
at the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Bronze plaque,
notched
Louisville Slugger bat,
#3
wool jersey.
Plaque postcards to send the neighbors.
Stay at the Otesaga Hotel.
Outdoor pool swimming,
front lawn putting.
Visit Farmers’ Museum
& Country Village.
Blacksmith, broommaker, carpenter, weaver
busy at work.
A cave to explore
Howe Caverns has more.
Stalactites tempt to grip,
mighty stalagmites galore.
I wear my new Yankees hat home.
Birthdays bring
town teams,
leveled leagues.
I play Grasshopper,
younger brother Tee Ball.
Jump to Majors,
move to Pony,
up to Intertown.
Teammates Cassata, Lattuca, Rosa …
School teams too,
JV and Varsity.
… Marcanio, Mariani, Petramalo.
Legion ball
last chance
before college.
College baseball
ends
before it begins.
SUNY school
drops the team.
Play basketball.
Second brother
born in the 70s.
Mimics Yankee
“Hit Man” Mattingly in the 80s.
Crouched stance and all,
follows footsteps-
Play ball!
Adult leagues
shift to
slow-pitch.
Softballs rise,
high-arcing
like friendships
from youth …
… Fazio, Torrelli, Turano.
Double Deuce
team,
named after
rough-and-tumble
bar,
wins
back-to-back
championships!!
My wife played
Junior softball.
Still had her glove.
We start our 1st daughter
with grow-to-pro
baseball set.
A beginner tee,
then a pedal step
pop-up pitch trainer.
Advance to pitched plastic balls.
Her jumbo bat,
like caveman club,
Flintstone-style.
Ellen wallops ball
back through the pitcher’s box.
Daddy has to duck!
2nd daughter
starts playing later.
Goes right to aluminum bat
and soft touch rubber ball.
Bases are placed,
a diamond green space.
Her friend plays catcher.
Daddy pitches.
Ball springs off bat,
carries, bounces, rolls,
seemingly stopless.
I try to track it down before
Rose can run the bases.
A game we play over …
and over …
2 year-old granddaughter
plays basketball
with Gpa (grandpa).
She’s gripped a lacrosse stick,
but not a baseball bat.
Yet.
Her mommy’s ball glove
is ready,
waiting for her.