Pitchers and Catchers are reporting soon,
Dreams of a pennant and singing that championship tune.
Coaches and managers will attempt to find the best,
off to the minors for the rest.
Opening Day is drawing near,
our national pastime is once again is here.
While there is nothing better than a Sunday at the park,
or the long majestic journey of the home run arc.
Whether April or October, blinding sun or clouds,
there will be an over pouring of joy of being one of the crowd.
Us (Cubs) fans who have waited decades, hoping this year we will be blessed,
with our team that hoists the trophy, signifying “we are the best”.
The summer of ’69 as I recall,
was when I first realized that the game was more than just a bat and a ball.
It overtook my senses with the power to excite,
a double play of Kessinger, Beckert to Banks and a fly out to right.
Santo’s heel click, Williams’ sweet swing, our faith that never ceases
was this be the year that futility finally decreases ?
It has now been over 100 years since the Cubs have won it all,
a century of curses, chokes and most of all that ball.
A little ball of twine and seams that truly have amazing powers,
to captivate and devastate a person in three hours.
Cub fans are famous for our faith, there is never a reprieve
For we all know there’s always this year, so we might as well believe.
Current 21 year old Adam Mamawala, originally wrote this poem and submitted it to his high school literature class - the subject being ones "true love". With his permission I have expanded and revised it slightly (note the third stanza) yet maintained his classic theme. He has accurately captured the feelings of baseball as a Chicago Cub fan (at least this fan). I greatly appreciate Adam for allowing me to modify it and re-print for all of you to enjoy . . . as this weekend brings the "unofficial" start of the baseball season.
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