=A0
"Back To The Bleacher Seats"

Rocking rails of timeless speed
still frozen in my mind

Regaling tales of latest deed
and the newest Yankee signed

We bold and faithful travelers
mocking, cold and hard

Disdaining silver rings and furs
for the Bombers' line-up card

Would jostle elder spokesmen
of their Civilizing age

In hopes of fumbled coins
and closer view of the batting cage

My right hand poised for wiping grins
gloved left with horsehide thirst

Trembled as we clattered in
to Bronx One-Sixty-First=A0

Our early stream to Ruth's abode
had netted victory

We'd struck upon the Mother Lode
for a sight few eyes would see

The heart of Yankee order
caging, taking swings

And DiMaggio re-defining
the importance of tree-rings

When suddenly his splintered bat
went sailing toward the mound

And through the mesh of warm-up rails
its errant way had found

The weather-beaten, Third Base face
of "The Lion" Frankie C.

Whose bloodied mane induced us
into Brooklyn howls of glee=A0

The Clipper leapt the sixty feet
in what seemed to me three bounds

Mindless of the braying bleat=A0
of Red Hook's bloody hounds

Crosetti's face was streaked in blood
his expression, dazed and hurt 

As he watched the anguished Yankee legend kicking at the dirt 

I could see him ache with sorrow
from the hair down to the toe

But the only words from Frankie were
"You didn't mean it Joe!"

While the Lion carried from the field
was hailed by our Bronx Cheers

The image then that seared my eyes
has stayed with me all these years=A0

When Frankie made it safely=A0
to the clubhouse on the right

The Clipper fixed a blazing gaze
upon our coterie of night

The hatred of our vicious jeers
the unsympathetic streak

Confirmed to Joe his darkest fears
"Tomorrow's hope is bleak"

His eyes grew cold regarding us
as he stepped back to the plate

Maybe he could transfer=A0
to the ball unspoken hate

His bat arced like a hammer
as he struck some thunderous blows

What was he really swinging at?
now only Heaven knows=A0

But he had learned the hard way
that to earn the future's dream

You are going nowhere=A0
'til you're playing for the team

And it's easy to believe the myth
that life is just a game

Until you see compassion lives
then nothing seems the same 

For a moment my heart skipped some beats when I saw we'd let Joe down 

When the gang banged back to the bleacher seats I wouldn't be around 

My boisterous acts of heartlessness
and braggadocio

Forever stilled by an icy glare
from Joe DiMaggio=A0 


copyright =A91999 Tom Rose
Pachyderm Productions

Please visit:

http://www.ellencole.com

to view the artworks of my mom Ellen Rose

Thank You