>And sad, too, for all baseball fans, because when the parade is over the
>players and managers are going home, the announcers will collapse with a
>sigh into their easy chairs and (as Tom Cheek said last night) put on the
>bunny slippers; tarpaulins and then snowflakes will cover the fields; and
>winter descends on baseball, as death descends on life.
>
>There will be spring -- there will be flowers, Easter, and batting practice
>-- but right now only faith sustains us.
Beautiful words, Chris. I'm glad to see someone out there understands
what it's all about, besides me.
A friend of mine, who was a Mets fan at the time and then later a
Red Sox fan, wrote the following Haiku:
November Ballpark
The sound of vendors churns the air
Old Carl Yazstremski
The image of an old Yaz had a peculiar poignancy in the spring of '71,
when these lines were penned, but I think the words speak of a certain
Schadenfreude, even today. At any rate, the poem does take risks.
Let's bring the Braves back to Boston in '88!
Tom Gross
Apollo Computer, Inc.
Chelmsford, MA