Copyright © Diane L. Schirf
The day was hot at Wrigley Field
The bats were hotter still.
The Phillies East led Phillies West
The score was 9-5.
It was the bottom of the ninth
Batters 1 & 2 had failed.
It was up to mighty Moreland
And Keith was 3 for 4.
So the man who fills the cleated shoes
Of wandering, homeless Mel
Came through again, he hit it out.
The score was 9-6.
Now it was the Penguin’s turn
He’d been an easy out that day.
He’d walked to first, he’d swung and missed.
The crowd was hardly thrilled.
But little Ron, that mighty bird,
Took aim and swung; he did not miss.
He hit it out, this time to right
And ho! The lead was down to two.
Now Gary Woods, a quiet guy,
Had grabbed the Sarge’s glove.
But he must have swiped a Sandberg bat.
He made his way to third.
Now Bowa’s turn, his glove was hot,
But, sad to say, his luck was not.
He hit it hard, he tried his best
But a glove was in his way.
So Larry stood, his face aflame,
He hung his head in shame.
He left the field, the end was come.
A fan shed a tear or two.
Phillies East bested Phillies West
Four times in a row.
It’s not a time to mourn the past
We are champions to the last.