When They Got Strict in Single A
George Cooper
Dollar Day in Single A
Would bring out the crowd,
So the usher said when he
Insisted we sit in our seats in the sun,
3 and 4, Row B, Section C.
It would be just an hour
Before the sun sets behind
Hills in the west
And the ladies come out
From their wide brimmed hats.
That wouldn’t suit her
Who hadn’t come for the game
Or dollar hot dogs and beer
But to sit in shade and read,
I reasoned with him.
There is no one here.
We’ll move if someone comes.
We asked for seats in the shade.
We aren’t scared of rain.
When did you get so strict in Single A?
It is all like that
For Bubba, Pena, and Hilligoss
Salazar, Valdez, O’Brian—
Names of the future
Bearing names of the past.
No one to carry their bags
From Aberdeen to Lowell
Oneonta to Auburn to State College
Aboard the night envisioning 3 for 4
When 1 of a hundred reaches the majors.
Esequier Pie toes the rubber
For Jamestown tonight.
Albert Laboy singles off him
In the top of the first and
Williamsport hustles on to score 3.
She eats nachos and reads
Her book in left field
The picnic area—family designated
Where the hills first spread
Their October shadows.
Dollar Day in Single A
Would bring out the crowd,
So the usher said when he
Insisted we sit in our seats in the sun,
3 and 4, Row B, Section C.
It would be just an hour
Before the sun sets behind
Hills in the west
And the ladies come out
From their wide brimmed hats.
That wouldn’t suit her
Who hadn’t come for the game
Or dollar hot dogs and beer
But to sit in shade and read,
I reasoned with him.
There is no one here.
We’ll move if someone comes.
We asked for seats in the shade.
We aren’t scared of rain.
When did you get so strict in Single A?
It is all like that
For Bubba, Pena, and Hilligoss
Salazar, Valdez, O’Brian—
Names of the future
Bearing names of the past.
No one to carry their bags
From Aberdeen to Lowell
Oneonta to Auburn to State College
Aboard the night envisioning 3 for 4
When 1 of a hundred reaches the majors.
Esequier Pie toes the rubber
For Jamestown tonight.
Albert Laboy singles off him
In the top of the first and
Williamsport hustles on to score 3.
She eats nachos and reads
Her book in left field
The picnic area—family designated
Where the hills first spread
Their October shadows.
posted by Cooper @ 2:38 PM
4 Comments:
At 6:07 AM,
Ronan Jimson said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
At 7:30 AM,
Ronan Jimson said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
At 5:52 AM,
David Schaafsma said…
Hi, George. Thanks for posting. Todd and Wolbers and I went to the Wisconsin Timber Rattlers game, so we can relate. Folks cam and sat on the lawn, there's a full bar, there's akiddie play area, lots of people come and don't pay any attention to the game at all, like your mystery guest who becomes the focal point of the poem, in an interesting way
I like that envisioning 3 for 4 when 1 in a 100. .
And finally you get to the game itself, which is also for you just a part of the experience, maybe even a small part, in memory. Like: what do we remember fro all these games we see, over the years. But what we might remember from this poem is the ending, those hills spreading their shadows. The rest of it before that has just glimpses of that kind of imagery except for the wide-brimmed hats. Until you get to settle in to watch the game it's all about the struggle about where you can actually sit, the game becomes all about that. Not until you get that settled can the sweet attention to the game and the imagery begin, the listing of the players (they're not anonymous, anymore). YOu could have just started by listing the players and the game and it would have been more romanticized. The way you have it is more complex, truer, maybe, to our actual experience of games.
At 9:36 PM,
Dan De Vries said…
I go to a single A game every chance I get. In some weird sense, it's my favorite kind of baseball. This one gets it. Haffta say, I was hoping for an explosion of this kind of thing when David started messing with "the idea," and it is so very cool to see it happening!
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