The families yell from the bleachers,
my teammates from the bench,
the coach starts waving some hand signals,
that might as well be French.
I see the ball come toward me.
I swing and I connect.
I drop the bat and run toward first,
the coach there has me checked.
He pats me on the shoulder,
and whispers blah blah blah,
I catch my breath and hear a wail,
oh, no, it must be Ma.
I glance in her direction,
and Jerry hits the ball.
The line drive hits me in the ribs.
It’s quiet when I fall.
I’m only out a minute,
a peaceful one, and then,
the coach looks down at me, I hear
the bedlam once again.