It’s Spring again,
Time to make boys out of men.
It’s time to leave the stressy norm,
And play with friends in uniform.
Time to share the memories of present and past,
Conjured by the aroma of wood, leather, and freshly cut grass.
Memories passed from Cy Young to Ruth to Aaron to legends come and gone,
From the father to the son, playing on the lawn.
To be a Pirate or Diamondback is only in a name,
Even if a Yankee or a Marlin, the passion’s still the same.
We really don’t need peanuts or Cracker Jack;
The game is the only reason that I ever come back.
Exquisite ecstasy from Spring to Fall,
But let’s be silent for a moment to hear the umpire’s sweet yell…”PLAY BALL!!!”
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About Pedro Reyes Figueroa
