This Game We Call Baseball Poem by White Tiger

The team takes the field
Nine possitions in all
The season has begun
Were ready for baseball
One hundreed sixty two games
Six months of the year
It culminates with a post season
Where people stand and cheer
And when the adrenaline is pushed
Beyond your wildest dreams
Here comes the world series
Never ending it seems
The players are happy
Doing what they love
The national anthem is played
As a catcher adjusts his glove
The fans are shouting
"Lets make the right call."
Its our national past time
The game we call Baseball.


C. Vergara
11.12.2007