Tim Peeler - "When the '49 Series Went Crosstown"

Dodgers vs. Yanks,
Cooke Mull knew he had to be there.

First to convince his buddy, George Poover,
To freight him on his furniture delivery to Philly;
From there a night train to NYC.

With Poovey thus ensnared,
They proceeded from quiet Catawba County,
First stop, the liquor store,
Second somewhere in Philly
To ditch the truck - then make for the city.

Huckleberries that they were,
They bee-lined for the Empire,
Becoming separated in the upper twenty -
And Poovey after an hour of wandering,
Located Cooke in a bar,
Tumultuous, in story-telling high gear,
Being fed and given drinks
To keep the comedy rolling.

In the Bronx they managed seats,
But Ebbet's was SRO,
And the boys were packed in the back
Of a horrible throng near the roof.

But Poovey, who was a man of action,
Reached the limit of his affability,
And along with an exaggerated
Scratch of his privates,
He moaned like Wolfe's Gant,
A most heartrending redneck truck driver moan,
Calling aloud to the very gods of baseball,
"These crabs are about to drive
Me completely nuts!"

And as Cooke always told it,
The crowd around then
Parted like the Red Sea,
And they went forward
To a righteous view
Of the remainder of the game.



Touching All the Bases