Back To The Bleacher Seats

Rocking rails of timeless speed

still frozen in my mind

Regaling tales of latest deed

and the newest Yankee signed

We bold and faithful travelers

mocking, cold and hard

Disdaining silver rings and furs

for the Bombers' line-up card

Would jostle elder spokesmen

of their Civilizing age

In hopes of fumbled coins

and closer view of the batting cage

My right hand poised for wiping grins

gloved left with horsehide thirst

Trembled as we clattered in

to Bronx One-Sixty-First

Our early stream to Ruth's abode

had netted victory

We'd struck upon the Mother Lode

for a sight few eyes would see

The heart of Yankee order

caging, taking swings

And DiMaggio redefining

the importance of tree rings

When suddenly his splintered bat

went sailing toward the mound

And through the mesh of warm-up rails

its errant way had found

The weather-beaten, third base face

of "The Lion" Frankie C.

Whose bloodied mane induced us

into Brooklyn howls of glee

The Clipper leapt the sixty feet

in what seemed to me three bounds

Mindless of the braying bleat

of Brookyn's bloody hounds

Crosetti's face was streaked in blood

his expression, dazed and hurt

As he watched the anguished Yankee legend

kicking at the dirt

I could see Joe ache with sorrow

from the hair down to the toe

But the only words from Frankie were

"You didn't mean it, Joe..."

While the Lion carried from the field

was hailed by our Bronx Cheers

The image then that seared my eyes

has stayed with me all these years

When Frankie made it safely

to the clubhouse on the right

The Clipper fixed a blazing gaze

upon our coterie of night

The hatred of our vicious jeers

the unsympathetic streak

Confirmed to Joe his darkest fears

"Tomorrow's hope is bleak"

His eyes grew cold regarding us

as he stepped back to the plate

Maybe he could transfer

to the ball unspoken hate?

His bat arced like Thor's hammer

as he struck some thunderous blows

What was he really swinging at?

now only Heaven knows

But he had learned the hard way

that to earn the future's dream

You are going nowhere

'til you're playing for the team

And it's easy to believe the myth

that life is just a game

Until you see compassion lives

then nothing seems the same

For a moment my heart skipped some beats

when I saw we'd let Joe down

When the gang banged back to the bleacher seats

I wouldn't be around

My boisterous acts of heartlessness

and braggadocio

Forever stilled by an icy glare

from Joe DiMaggio...