Bases loaded, Clean-up steps in,
Gives you one of those devil grins.
Tie game, Two Out, Bottom nine,
Can't give up a hit this time.
No errors, Can't hit him, No walks,
No stolen bases or balks.
No wild pitches, No pass balls,
Let's just hope I get some calls.
Ball 1, Ball 2, Ball 3, OH NO!
Coach comes out, The bullpen will they go?
He leaves me in to throw some strikes,
Tells me, 'It's just like riding a bike.'
Strike 1, Strike 2, Full count now,
Next pitch- It's gone. 'HOW? HOW? HOW? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem