Lonesome Pitcher, by lance Subscribe to rss feed for lance

I can still smell the grass from the dugout stands
and hear the echo of our cheering fans
when my time came to pitch i can hear people
say #6 is the man i stand on the mound and look at the
batter and think he's goin down i wind up my fast ball
and i pray i don't hear the smackin sound  the ball
zooms past my head as i fall to the ground i hear the boos
as i see the ball takin the batter home,,,,

this is my life as the lonesome pitcher

i've never got a hit or a out on three now i got the
whole team mad at me but i hold my head high and its ok 
#6 get em next time 

i stand on the mound in the pouring rain i ask god why am i
here i do my best but im no good that much is clear i ask
for one more chance to show i belong....i'm gona stand here
in the rain and pitch till my arm falls down maybe our next
game i'll win over the crowd

bottom of the ninth bases are loaded the last batter swung
so hard the bat exploded i'm not gona hide i'm not gona run
i will do my best till this game is won coach says # 6 it's
your last chance to prove you belong if we lose this game i
promise u will be gone

two strikes and i need one more i closed my eyes and threw
the ball i didn't hear the smack the crowd was quiet i can't
look cuz i knew i blew it, so i opened my eyes and to my
surprise.........3 strikes and he was out..........the crowd
was cheering for poor #6 in the last pitch they got no hits
i did i made it i do belong here

hey dad.......the crowd finally cheered.
Posted: 2011-10-26 01:32:38 UTC

This poem has no votes yet. To vote, you must be logged in.
To leave comments, you must be logged in.