He sliced the ball when he had it on a plate.
quote by Ron Atkinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Sliced Bread
Sliced bread...
Whole wheat and toasted.
Buttered with jam,
And munched.
Either with tea, punch...
Or just plain water for lunch!
Sliced bread...
With cheddar cheese and tomato.
Add Romaine lettuce,
Topped with fried strips of bacon.
This too will certainly do.
Sliced bread...
Oatmeal raisin,
Oven baked and fed.
Sliced bread...
Crumbed to stuff a turkey.
And seasoned to gobble...
With an aftertaste on the tongue,
Deliciously nutmeged!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fix your eye on the ball from the moment the pitcher holds it in his glove. Follow it as he throws to the plate and stay with it until the play is completed. Action takes place only where the ball goes.
In the split second from the time the ball leaves the pitcher's hand until it reaches the plate you have to think about your stride, your hip action, your wrist action, determine how much, if any the ball is going to break and then decide whether to swing at it.
quote by Duke Snider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Meat Ball
(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire-men
I feel something
Something is rushing straight to me
Not the runner, nor the falling rock-climber
But a round flying object－ yes, a football
I have no enough time to run away, I’ll be hit
But it stops－ thanks to the iron net before me
I, angrily, try to see from the holes of net
About six men, wearing blue clothes of football
Printed with Congshan Fire Brigade
They are practicing shooting
By shooting a small metal plate
Tied tightly on the net
Every time when they kick the ball, they shout
Two words－ but I cannot hear them clearly
One by one, when they hit the target
They cheer, and again kick, hit and shout
As the triumph over the mountain-fire
Caused by a cigarette butt last year
Year in year out, they fight against fire
Honorably, even when they play football
The courage, the braveness, the fire
Flying with the ball, hitting the plate
Yes they win! Finally I hear what they shout
As what is written on that plate: NO SOMKING
poem by Kavin Fang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Juggler
A ball will bounce; but less and less. It's not
A light-hearted thing, resents its own resilience.
Falling is what it loves, and the earth falls
So in our hearts from brilliance,
Settles and is forgot.
It takes a sky-blue juggler with five red balls
To shake our gravity up. Whee, in the air
The balls roll around, wheel on his wheeling hands,
Learning the ways of lightness, alter to spheres
Grazing his finger ends,
Cling to their courses there,
Swinging a small heaven about his ears.
But a heaven is easier made of nothing at all
Than the earth regained, and still and sole within
The spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and noble
He reels that heaven in,
Landing it ball by ball,
And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table.
Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broom's
Balancing up on his nose, and the plate whirls
On the tip of the broom! Damn, what a show, we cry:
The boys stamp, and the girls
Shriek, and the drum booms
And all come down, and he bows and says good-bye.
If the juggler is tired now, if the broom stands
In the dust again, if the table starts to drop
Through the daily dark again, and though the plate
Lies flat on the table top,
For him we batter our hands
Who has won for once over the world's weight.
poem by Richard Wilbur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Catfish
(bob dylan, jacques levy)
Lazy stadium night,
Catfish on the mound.
strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man would not pay.
So he packed his glove and took his arm
And one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Way up where the yankees are
Smoke a custom made cigar.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seeing nothing but the curve.
Swing too early or too late,
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joe Torre would tell you to make sure you can hit the ball on the outside part of the plate.
quote by Dale Murphy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you can throw 97 miles an hour and put the ball over the plate anytime you want, it's fun.
quote by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish
Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
Strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man wouldnt pay
So he packed his glove and took his arm
An one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Come up where the yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Carolina born and bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin dogs for sale.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seein nothin but the curve,
Swing too early or too late
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Even billy martin grins
When the fish is in the game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the hall of fame.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Salad to Eat
Different hues...
Some not as bright but invites,
Those who come to eat eagerly
With an assorted presentation
That might satisfy an appetite.
With tomatoes and carrots,
Sliced apples and grapes...
Romaine lettuce sprinkled with chives
Topped with olive oil and vinegar,
Is a treat to see on a plate to delight...
And surprise.
Onions and green peppers,
Can please the eye with sensation.
When someone announces...
'I prefer a salad to eat! '
And they do without a moment's hesitation!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Minor's Field
The Li'l Leaguer's now in uniforms,
And the ball game is ‘bout to begin.
My young hero in position one,
For the Orioles against the Indians;
Kevin stepped on the pitcher's plate,
"Go! Orioles, " the parents cheered.
"Batter's in, " the umpire yelled,
He pitched, the ball went wild.
"Ball, " the umpire called. Again,
He pitched to the batter's shin.
Hit by pitch, the batter walks on base,
Still at first when the catcher missed.
"Ball, " 2 and 0, the umpire signed,
And some parents began to whine.
Bases are loaded but all walks,
And their slugger is up to bat.
Pitch by pitch, she tried to hit,
A foul, a tip, the third, she missed.
With one out on the score board,
The outfielders are getting bored.
The next batter, my neighbor's son,
He tried the same as hard as he can,
Swing after swing, he lost his chance;
The ball was caught, two out at once.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Analysis Of Baseball
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
and the mitt.
Ball hits
bat, or it
hits mitt.
Bat doesn’t
hit ball, bat
meets it.
Ball bounces
off bat, flies
air, or thuds
ground (dud)
or it
fits mitt.
Bat waits
for ball
to mate.
Ball hates
to take bat’s
bait. Ball
flirts, bat’s
late, don’t
keep the date.
Ball goes in
(thwack) to mitt,
and goes out
(thwack) back
to mitt.
Ball fits
mitt, but
not all
the time.
Sometimes
ball gets hit
(pow) when bat
meets it,
and sails
to a place
where mitt
has to quit
in disgrace.
That’s about
the bases
loaded,
about 40,000
fans exploded.
It’s about
the ball,
the bat,
the mitt,
the bases
and the fans.
It’s done
on a diamond,
and for fun.
It’s about
home, and it’s
about run.
poem by May Swenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Ball
At home
my dog and child
play the foot ball
Dog kick the ball
Clild also kick
Ball was...
Run to run...
Suddnley dog
Bite the ball
The ball was blast...
Chil was cry
Dog was wow...wow...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And, you know, you try and preach to them there's more to this game than just walking up to home plate, swinging the bat, fielding a ground ball. There's some dedication in it, some love you've got to put into this work.
quote by Eddie Murray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dr. Joel Fleischman in nature. Not exactly the man you knew. He couldn't see past the Hudson River if he tried. He liked his fish smoked or preferable hand sliced from Zabars on a sliced bagel served with onions. Nature, to him, was an irritant. Birds didn't sing, they woke him up. A body of water wasn't life, it was a golf hazard..
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You can't sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You've got to throw the ball over the damn plate and five the other man his chance. That's why baseball is the greatest game of them all.
quote by Earl Weaver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Saintly Sin
There was a man dressed shabbily
in church in the same old pew.
He sat there piously and pretended to pray
but knew what he would do.
He waited patiently for the collection plate
to pass him in the pew.
He made the effort to stop the plate
and this is what he'd do.
He'd place a penny in the plate
and take two quarters out.
And as he left he'd smiled a lot
and you would hear him shout
Hallelujah Lord.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Them Heavy People
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
They arrived at an inconvenient time.
I was hiding in a room in my mind.
They made me look at myself. I saw it well.
Id shut the people out of my life.
So now I take the opportunities:
Wonderful teachers ready to teach me.
I must work on my mind. for now I realise:
Everyone of us has a heaven inside.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Them heavy people help me.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
They open doorways that I thought were shut for good.
They read me gurdjieff and jesu.
They build up my body, break me emotionally.
Its nearly killing me, but what a lovely feeling!
I love the whirling of the dervishes.
I love the beauty of rare innocence.
You dont need no crystal ball,
Dont fall for a magic wand.
We humans got it all, we perform the miracles.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Them heavy people help me.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball...
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just take the ball and throw it where you want to. Throw strikes. Home plate don't move.
quote by Satchel Paige
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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