The game was tied in the bottom of nine <br /> A runner on third and two out <br /> In the dead still air a mosquito's whine <br /> Was all you could hear, then a shout <br /> <br /> "Do something Ben, murder the ball, <br /> For crying out loud get a hit." <br /> Ben strode to the plate to answer the call <br /> The now restless fans knew this was it <br /> <br /> He dug in his right foot then positioned his left <br /> And tapped the plate twice with his bat <br /> Then he pulled it back slowly as to measure its heft <br /> And tensed his whole frame like a cat <br /> <br /> The pitcher glared in, the Ump hunkered down <br /> Then the ball on its way like a shot <br /> Ben pulled the trigger, his body unwound <br /> And the ball hit the bat with a "Thock" <br /> <br /> This is the sum that the game's all about <br /> This instant is not just a dream <br /> The split second physics, a hit or an out? <br /> Each player and fan poised to scream<br /><br />John W. Knight<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/baseball-2/
