Baseball: The Surrogate Father
Baseball is a surrogate father.
Every piece of advice
which I expound to my children –
that goes in one ear and out the other –
for three hours
on the baseball diamond
after the umpire calls,
As I stand at the fence
and shovel peanuts into my mouth,
I can hear Terrance Mann whisper,
“The movie got it wrong, you know.”
I nod my head in agreement and reply to no one,
“Don’t need to build it, kids will play anywhere.”
Together we blurt out,
“And the parents will drive them! Fools!”
After the fat lady finally sings,
we stop at 7-Eleven for a Slurpie
before making our way home.
After replaying the game
I have a date
washing the kid’s uniforms
knowing I’m never, ever
getting those grass stains
out of the knees.
I just hope my children
the joy and frustration
this game has taught them
as they grow old.