Thanks kid, for being the reason,
I get to coach another season.
Who was more nervous that very first day?
You just learning, or me who must teach you to play.
Out on the diamond I feel like a kid again,
Yet after each practice and game, my age settles back in.
My muscles would ache and bones feel sore,
A little ice and some ointment and I’m better than before.
A few moments each game I would steal far away,
Back to a time when I could still play.
The boyhood memories came rushing back in,
Just like a good slider complete with the spin.
That ol’ team was a rough and tumble bunch,
We would play all day and never eat lunch.
We would play anyone, anytime, anywhere,
But no other team could give us a scare.
That old sandlot is still there today,
Now sadly the boys no longer come to play.
The grass grows tall where home plate once stood,
A long forgotten landmark in the old neighborhood.
“Coach, hey Coach” I hear from a place far, far away,
“Are you going to pitch to me sometime today?”
Suddenly, I am standing back on the mound,
Surrounded by my players just milling around.
I am back to the game, with you at last,
My boyhood memories tucked back in the past.
“Hey Coach, everything alright” I am asked with a grin,
“Just perfect kid. Hey, thanks again.”