There Used To Be A Ballpark Here Poem by John F. McCullagh

The Ghosts of Ruth and Gehrig sat
Up in Tier 35
And wiped tears from translucent cheeks
As the final anthem died.

DiMaggio brought the popcorn
The Mick supplied the beer
He bought it up in heaven
Cause it’s cheaper there than here.

“An epic game”, the Babe enthused
“The best I ever saw”
he chowed down on some hot dogs
And looked around for more.

Gehrig glanced out at his bat
Atop the center pole
And wished to get it in his hands
And feel its weight once more.

“I had a streak in 41’ the longest in the game”
Then DiMaggio fell silent and turned to watch the game
“I did my best in 56’”Mantle then exclaimed
“I wonder what I could have been if both my legs were game”

Mystique and Aura, Saucy things
Each dancing at a pole
As Derek with his broken hand
drove a single through the hole.

Pettite our left handed ace
Dealt his greatest game
Glaring out beneath his cap-
His hate for batters plain.

The autumn sky had turned to black
When Mo entered the game
The Sandman tune was soon drowned out
By the faithful who remain.



Robert Merrill sang, and then Kate Smith sang
Then Sinatra one last time
Singers for the requiem
Living need not apply!

The Ghosts of Ruth and Gehrig sat
Up in Tier 35
And wiped tears from translucent cheeks
As the music died

“I wonder if we’ll feel the pain
When they wield the wrecking ball
I wonder if our hearts will break
When they breech the wall.”

“Fear not, dear friend, the Stadium’s end
For if steel and concrete fall
The Stadium lives in our hearts
Whenever we recall.”

The fans left standing in the street
On River Avenue
These corporate types in Luxury suites
Have little thought for you

Our paradise is lost tonight
Our little patch of green
But what a life we lived in there
The greatness we have seen.