The Baseball Chronicle

Poetry, October 2010

Fancy Fielder

He is mine,
Ruth Ann said, my dream in a tux,
Eddie Waitkus, ballplayer deluxe.

He moved well around first.
Too well, perhaps,
For a dame with a thirst,
A desire for certain chaps,
Those in uniform
Of Lithuanian descent,
With smooth athletic form.

No words spoken, not a hint,
Until one night a note appeared
Asking him to indulge a whim.
Her bullet split his boutonniere.
She was so happy for her and him.

About the author

Bryce Martin stays busy in semi-retirement writing poetry, fiction, non-fiction and songs at his home near Nashville, Tenn. During his long journalism career, he worked as a sports editor, columnist and news reporter for daily newspapers and magazines.

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