The Mets win, so it's time for a baseball poem.

In celebration of the postseason and my discovery of the "delight agenda," thanks to Tony Hoagland, I'm posting this poem. I wrote in during a course at Wesleyan with Tony Connor, a Welshman with a wonderful voice and an aura that left no doubt about how comfortable he'd be in a dark bar with a glass of Scotch.

The details of the poem are from a still photograph in a baseball book I haven't been able to find in the last couple of years. For those of you who don't understand the title, the New York Highlanders were the American League team in New York City in the very early 20th century. All the names of the poem are the names of people or billboards in the photo. I set the characters in motion, and I'm pretty sure that I've been true to the facts of the play that followed.

It's one of the few poems I've written that I like pretty much every time I read it.

Before There Were Yankees
Cleveland Naps v. New York Highlanders, May 1912

Bert Daniels danced off second base,
the score was two to one.
A drive up the middle started the race,
New York runner versus Cleveland gun.
His toes tapped third; he headed home
prepared to bask in glory.
“Bert Daniels outruns Shoeless Joe;”
that’s how they’d report the story.
But alas, poor Bert, ‘twas not to be;
you’d trot no victory lap.
In the bleachers they knew it, they could see
another feather in Joe Jackson’s cap.
He moved the ball in one graceful stride
from his mitt to his throwing hand.
And in no time flat, launched the horsehide
to the dismay of the New York fans.
Ted Easterly crouched to block the plate
As Bill Evans moved into position.
and feeling he might be one second late
Bert Daniels prepared for collision.
From ten feet in front of the Old Bushmills sign
with PhilipMorris looking askance
Shoeless Joe fired that dart on a line;
Did the Highlander still have a chance?
His spikes gleamed in the sun as he started his slide
and dirt flew around home in a cloud.
Evans pulled off his mask, the tag was applied.
the ump called the baserunner out.
Bert Daniels jumped up in vain disbelief,
“You’re joking! You cost us the game.”
The sun shone on Joe, years away from the grief
of the scandal that ruined his name.