Meaningful Games Poem by John F. McCullagh

The air of September has turned crisp and clean,

with a hint of past autumns remembered,

as I take the field with the rest of the team

to battle the other contender.



Just like a knuckleball released to the plate

Our season has seemed to meander

In May we seemed sure of a World Series date-

But now the blogs call us pretenders.





The lead we enjoyed in June and July

has steadily melted away.

bad luck and the heat had led to defeats

while our foes seem to gain every day.



The faces around me are a mix old and new.

Some friends have been traded away-

or waived on the wire, which was needed, no doubt.

I just hope these new call ups can play.



But there is no room for self pity or doubt

While our chance at the playoffs remains

There are so many players whose dreams are long dead

while we still play meaningful games.







This poem may be about the 2008 New York Mets. Certainly the title was inspired by a statement made by Mets owner, Fred Wilpon. The speaker may be David Wright. It is also possible that this poem is using the baseball season as an extended metaphor.