BROTHERHOOD OF THE WHITE STITCHED BALL

They came as nine.
Perfect for this game.
Third base line seats tucked
behind the opposition dugout.
Every cheer and shout directed
at the pristine field. Five were brothers;
one by proxy. Three were cousins, close.
The ninth, a long time compatriot, a brother
of sorts; cohorts in this simple game. Hit. Catch.
Throw. Wouldn’t you know it would be so simple?
“A sky so blue, it’d hurt your eyes to look at it!”
A strand of clouds lined the outfield. Contrasting,
completing; highlighted in pinkish tones. No bones about it.
Our father was punctuating a perfect day, in “the land of the free,
and the home of the brave”. Play Ball!

Walt                                                            Photo by Aron Martinez (Coca-Cola Field Security Man)

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3 thoughts on “BROTHERHOOD OF THE WHITE STITCHED BALL

  1. Hey Walt–couldn't resist commenting on this one.It's great to have family. Our Sunday afternoon ballgames in the front yard were formed by 4 brothers, 2 brothers-in-law and, not to be left out–2 older sisters, 2 younger sisters, my sister, Mary and me! With our neighbors, we had enough players for two teams. It was a lot of fun even though hockey took over as soon as the weather turned cold.Your photo is great!Patricia

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