BOTTOM OF THE NINTH

Bottom of the Ninth

Sure I struck out

More times than I hit

Some would say I was Minor league

Some say I shoulda played in the Majors

A bit light and short to get it over the fence

With the ninety mile pitchers

That would jar your spine if you could hit it

And I was fast, and I had a bitchin' slider

They just couldn’t see

Sometimes I wonder if this very game will ever end

And if the players are real

Early in the game I was confused

If I wanted to pitch or catch or play second base

Indecision benched me at times

But I played on, and now the bases are loaded

The game is tied and the pitch is three to two

They are all looking at me

My arm is hurting and I know I haven’t played

As good as I could have played this game

Always doubted if I was good enough, I was good enough

Been a pretty long game, with a middlin' record

In June 2011, I have played seventy six seasons this time around

And I have begun thinking of the next game

And how I won’t screw it up next time.