Though Jack wrote poems about a variety of topics, baseball wasn’t excluded from his works. The following are some poems Jack wrote about the game.
Spring Will Come Again
(September 23, 1997)
There is a sadness that you feel in September of the year,
When your baseball team is out of the race and there’s nothing left to cheer.
The weather doesn’t help, it’s chilly and it’s raining,
And you let go of the dreams you dreamed when your team was in Spring Training.
The stands are almost empty, there’s no reason to come around.
And the stadium seems hollow, an echo punctuates each sound.
You can hear the umpire call the pitches, hear the coach when he claps his hands.
There is no rhythmic stomping, no wave sweeps through the stands.
They’re playing out the schedule, and no one seems to care.
But a baseball fan’s life will begin anew the next time spring is in the air.
We expect the best to be better,
though we know it doesn’t work that way.
There are inevitable limitations
that will always rule the day.
No matter what is accomplished,
a discovery, or a thought at the end of a pen,
it’s what have you done for me lately,
or let’s see you do that again.
In one glorious season
Mark McGwire turned the world upside down.
He blasted 70 homers.
The news whistled through every town.
The red-headed giant
was bold and defiant.
He was not to be thwarted that year.
He smashed the record by nine.
Lived in your life and mine
We took over his life — I fear.
McGwire has given his best,
never wanted a rest,
has lately spent time on the shelf.
Though they profess to respect him,
some still expect him
to constantly outdo … himself.
But those who love him and know him
will always show him
admiration that need not be stated.
It was a remarkable year,
in a hall of fame career
What great moments Mark McGwire has created.