Bottom of the Pile; Top of the World

I was wanting to save this for closer to World Series time but I've decided to open my old journal and share this now. I wrote this about 14 years ago so I was still a Cubs fan. I hope you like it.

Bottom of the Pile; Top of the World

Two are out, bases loaded and 1-nothing is the score.

I’ve thrown a hundred and forty pitches or more.

The pressure has built in inning number nine.

One out to go and glory can be mine.

This isn’t an ordinary game, it’s game 7.

To win this one would feel like heaven.

Since I was five I’ve yearned for this chance.

I turn to the stands and take a quick glance.

These 65,000 people have become a maniacal mob.

Back in the third inning my elbow began to throb.

Lucky for me my arm has long since been numb.

They love me now but one mistake and I’m “a bum.”

For 23 years this game has had my devotion.

Now millions of people hang on my every motion.

But my body is weak and my mind is tired.

I wish this hadn’t come down to the wire.

Okay, gather your strength, your thoughts and your mind.

The great ones look a bit deeper and have extra to find.

I know this guy wants to see my very best fastball.

Let’s look in to see what my catcher will call.

My mate thinks we should challenge him.

If I miss my spot, the result will be grim.

One inch off the outside corner?  No problem.

Just grab two seams with two fingers and a thumb.

Come on, Ump!  You gotta give me some of the black.

Can’t put it down the middle or it won’t come back.

Same pitch but this time let’s try the inside.

This is dangerous but it is a matter of pride.

Five hundred feet down the line!  Whew!  It’s foul.

What does the batter think?  Whoa!  What a scowl.

Definitely time to throw the ol’ slider.

I’m oh so tired but damnit, I’m a fighter.

Umph!  The batter sure was fooled by the spin.

Give him the number one way up and way in.

Didn’t plan for it to be that close to his chin.

He’s alright.  He dusted off and gave me a grin.

Catch your breath... take a stroll around the mound,

Fix the hat, play with the rosin bag that’s on the ground.

I’ll give him a slider ‘cause it’s nothing to pull.

Damn!  It missed low and now the count is full.

Oh, Lord, I’m exhausted.  Hows about a little relief?

How can such a great game cause me such grief?

Let’s end it now.  Fastball down Broadway with all I can muster.

It’s either Alexander The Great or General Custer.

Uh oh!  The hitter is taking a stride and a mighty swing!

He’s right on the ball.  Don’t think I’ll win a ring.

I can’t believe it went straight back!  God was smilin’.

Now I have another chance to send my team pilin’.

But I used my everything on that last pitch.

Now I know this effort will be last ditch.

I’ve no more ability to throw the ball hard,

so I’ll try to fool him though he’s on guard.

I’ll give him my pitch called the “circle change.”

Hopefully Lewis out in center will have the range.

I grip the ball in my hand just right

and make sure not to squeeze it too tight.

I release the ball at the perfect point.

Everyone is standing, I mean the entire joint.

After the swing, the ball gently enters the catcher’s mitt!

Then the batter goes off to have a fit.

After nearly a century filled with flubs,

the championship finally belongs to the Cubs.

Now my face can barely contain this ear to ear smile.

It sure is tough to breathe at the bottom of this pile!


Just Joe