I was just getting used to you
As a Giant, when I heard that
Down in your basement
The whirring blade bumped a knot
And chewed off your throwing hand's fingertips.
Your comeback in the spring
Was a predictable failure,
But you did come back.
Poets have their failures
And need their comebacks too.
This comeback poem is for you,
Who can no longed play shortstop for me.
The Mantle-Mays Controversy Solved
The Day Satchel Paige and the Pittsburgh Crawfords Came to Hertford, N.C.
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