The ninth batter in the line-up, who was 0 for 4 that day,
Stepped up to the plate in the last inning to play.
With a man on first and third and two outs on the board,
It was either make or break as the whit sphere soared
Into the catcher’s glove with a thwack!
“Strike One!” the umpire spat.
With words of hatred from the crowd
And drilling looks from the dugout,
The young batter stepped into the box again
And took his stance like Josh Hamilton.
Once more the murderous ball flew,
“Ball to the outside!” yelled Blue.
The tension breathed a sigh of relief,
For that was close and could have been thieved.
For a third time, the ball hurtled through the air.
It dove to the ground; a swing and a miss of great despair.
“Steeeeerike Two!” the umpire spoke with a grin,
For the other team was about to win.
With the count at 1-2 and the runners creeping off the bag,
The batter was not about to become a drag.
The batter knew what pitch was coming next.
The Fastball. The cheap seats could see his muscle flexed.
His dad always said, “The harder they come in, the harder they go out.”
So all he had to do was get the bat on the ball, without a doubt.
He only saw the ball leave the pitcher’s hand,
Then felt the shock wave all the way down to his hands,
Then saw the ball bounce off the top of the wall and into the stands,
Then he was being lifted. “The homerun was so grand!”
He was being lifted and congratulated by his team.
Then he sat up in bed; It was just a dream.