Bob Forsch R.I.P.
His heart, like a knuckle ball,
fluttered in his chest.
A most unwelcome pressure-
he felt his chest compressed.
One week before he stood in awe
upon the mound at Busch.
Cameras flashed as he let fly
the ceremonial first pitch.
A champion in eighty two,
A Card for fifteen years.
Bob Forsch, A loved familiar name
brought out before the seventh game.
The first pitch that he threw that night
would also prove to be his last.
The Cards went on to victory
adding to their storied past.
A heart attack, the neighbors say.
Sixty one, so young, to fade away
God stole a page from LaRussa's book
in giving this starter a quick hook.
Last week, Bob Forsch, tossed the ceremonial first pitch before his Cardinals went on to win the World Series. Bob tossed two no hitters in his career and his Brother ken had tossed one also. The only brothers in Baseball history to accomplish that feat. When a starting pitcher is removed from a game early, before it has lasted long enough to be an official game, it is said the manager gave him a 'quick hook' Tony LaRussa, the manager of the Cardinals was notorious for changing pitchers multiple times in every game.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Best Among The Best
I laid down upon the shore of my bed,
and dreamed of a world i set ablazed.
I heard the great shouting and roaring of my name,
as i kept playing the beautiful round leather game.
The electrifying emotion on the pitch,
and the extraordinary feeling off the pitch,
Made me the best.
Even when faced with a hard test,
i had no option than victory,
cos wen am on the pitch, i cause my opponent misery.
The smooth texture of the grasses,
brought me happiness from the masses.
The joy of winning every match,
brought even more tougher opponent attach.
Every game had something to play for,
and when i don't get a chance to play, makes me bore.
Hearing the screeming of my name from the fans,
only makes my opponent feel banes.
I just want to tell the whole world,
that i am the best in everything i does in the world.
poem by Stanley Oguh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gary Speed
Glory came early as did fame.
to Gary Speed there on the pitch.
Cheers he heard from adoring crowds
among the elite he found his niche.
With time’s passage he lost a step
even if he felt the same
but as he ran he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
He coached to stay around the game.
After the cheers for him had faded
A friendly face, a familiar name
but as he coached he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
For many, Gary was an icon,
a living legend of the game.
They failed to see the mortal man
with silence weighting on his frame
As he tied the rope he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Before I pitch any game, from spring training to Game 7 of the World Series, I'm scared to death.
quote by Curt Schilling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish Hunter
Hard rubber plate there in the dust
and just beyond, a mound.
With difficulty Catfish turned
and paced the muddy ground.
Even with the walker
these few steps were hard indeed.
Shoulders weak, steps faltering
from Lou Gehrig’s sad disease.
The blue sky stretched above him
so infinite and vast.
With difficulty Catfish reached
back, deep into his past.
He did not think of trophies
or recall his perfect game.
Not at all about the millions
he once got to sign his name.
He was pitching for the Yankees
against men in Dodger Blue.
The World Series game on the line
some whispered he was through
His mind recalled each move he’d made
Each strikeout pitch he threw.
In Memory the fastball’s song
still sang out loud and true.
Like an old dog fast asleep
might dream that He’s still young.
Catfish thought about the night
His last Series ring was won
Soon, too soon, he’d be relieved
of ball, of life, of game
He’ be a plaque upon the wall
down at the hall of fame.
A few more weeks
and he’d be gone-
a casualty, nothing more.
The object now of whispered prayers,
This man fans once adored.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Loved To Watch Him Play
she never missed a practice
never missed a game
sat there watching
yelling his name
baseball, soccer, basketball too
she was always there
cheering him on
win or lose she didnt care
he was her little boy
he loved to play
she loved to watch him
even far away
for 12 years she was
at every game
always watching
yelling his name
then 1 day
he asked her not to come
he loved her
he would always be her son
he said other parents
never come
and he didnt want to have
the only one
he said he was a grown
man now
doesnt want his mom
around now
she said
ok
i wont embarrass you
that way
a few years later
he walks to the mound
looks at the bleachers
he hears a familiar sound
then he sees her
watching his game
sitting there patiently
yelling his name
he smiles real big
tips his hat
throws the ball
right past the bat
after the game
he runs to the stand
looking at his mom
she waves her hand
he runs past the fence
around the post
then realizes it was
his moms ghost
she never missed a practice
never missed a game
sat there watching
yelling his name
poem by Sandy Nobody
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Greatest
Little boy, in a baseball hat stands in the field with his ball and bat.
Says, "I am the greatest player of them all" puts his bat on his shoulder and he tosses up his ball.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
Now the little boy doesn't say a word, picks up his ball, he is undeterred.
Says, "I am the greatest there has ever been" and he grits his teeth and he tries it again.
And the ball goes up and the ball comes down swings his bat all the way around
The world so still you can hear the sound, the baseball falls to the ground.
He makes no excuses, he shows no fear, he just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers.
Little boy, he adjusts his hat, picks up his ball, stares at his bat
Says,"I am the greatest, the game is on the line" and he gives his all one last time.
And the ball goes up and the moon so bright, swings his bat with all his might
The world's as still, as still can be, the baseball falls and that's strike three.
Now it's suppertime and his momma calls, little boy starts home with his bat and ball.
Says, "I am the greatest, that is a fact, but even I didn't know I could pitch like that!"
Says, "I am the greatest,that is understood, but even I didn't know I could pitch that good!
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Birds
The cards stadium is gone
and with it so many memories
our first game and ball
and our first autograph card
meeting our favorite players
and we can't forget fredbird
having our hearts soar
when we see our beloved red birds
we chant the red birds
at the beloved bush stadium
seeing and watching
the Cardinals fly
making it to the world series
with one of our final actions
trying to prove to all
the red birds wont die
we won our division
but lost the world series
however we did help break
the Boston Red Sox curse
Bush stadium is now gone
memories are all we have left
of the red birds stadium
were they first learned to fly
the new stadium is up
with memories on the way
but will it be the same
or just bring tears to our eyes
red birds migrated
to a new home this year
to fly on new air
and fly to the world series.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cricket World-Cup’99 (Indian Style)
The Carnival of World Cricket
Is off to a start this May;
The seventh time, the world teams clash,
For glory, seeking their way!
All will be o’er in six weeks ’time;
Could India pull off a win?
Time will decide if Azhar’s boys,
Can stun the world once again.
No more Cricket’s an English game!
It’s love has caught all men;
The fever is on; game has begun;
The testing ground- England;
The Indian squad has gone ahead,
To get acclimatized;
Eleven kilos is the Cup’s weight!
Anyone gets enticed.
Few hundred pounds
Is the cost of the Cup;
Green light is on; the end will come;
Non one has yet given up!
A huge money-prize is at stake;
And Cricket-lovers are gay!
Glued to their T.V sets all stay;
The young and old, this May.
Not all can win laurels, acclaim;
O Indians, go proclaim;
Thy uniqueness and love of the game,
‘tis a worthy cause and name!
Weather and pressures could decide,
The pitch as well, the game;
With some effort and some Dame Luck,
It is anyone’s game;
Do your job as well as you can,
And pray good things happen;
The LORD decides the Game at Lords!
The Game is much open!
poem by John Celes
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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You had to pitch in and out. The zone didn't belong to the hitters; it belonged to the pitchers. Today, if you pitch too far inside, the umpire would stop you right there. I don't think it's fair.
quote by Juan Marichal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Play
I play some card to hand over
So that the game finishes always.
The cards are fully proper
And nobody lies too much.
I lose a game when it is absurd,
I love the game that I have consulted
With open arms, the arms are long.
I play some cards to finish the game,
It is gaming always on the world,
It is rich how we obey the world.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick Up Game First One To 11 By 1's
fOR ME TO WIN IT HAS TO BE SOMETHING IN IMPORTANT.
WHY DOES HE HAS RUBBER BANDS ON HIS ARMS, THAT QUESTION SHALL BE DISCOVER AS YOU GROW WE THE GAME.
ILL STOLE IT THREE TIME IN ONE GAME, HES A BIG MAN BUT THE SCORE 7-11, COME MY PEPS DONT LET ME IMPRESS YOU INN FRONT YOUR PEOPLE, THAT COULD BEEN ON A HIGHLIGHT REEL
GETTING SHUT OUT IN GAME TO 11 YOU KNOW HE'S NOT GOING GET A NOTHING GAME.
tHE GAME OF BASKETBALL IS ALL ABOUT RESPECT,
THE ULTRAMENT RESPECT IS TO GIVE NO RESPECT,
WHEN IT COME TO THE GAME OF BASKETBALL.
thats how you gain respect! ! ! !
AND IM HURT AND STILL TOOK YOUR MAN GAME YOU TELL ME WAS WE PLAY TO A ELEVEN OR WAS I JUST TAKE YOU SCHOOL.
talking about running the city, we talk about that later after your lesson
BECAUSE IF IT WAS A GAME FULL COURT FIVE ON FIVE AND IT GAME BASE ON STRAGTEY NOT SKILL WHO DO YOU THINK WOULD WIN.
RESPECT IS GIVING WHEN YOU SHOW IT, CHECK IS IN,
BALL PLAY.
poem by Louis Borgo
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Lighthouse
lighthouse...
tossed by the waves,
pitch black sky, no stars.
too rough to row,
holding on for dear life.
said a quick prayer...
my eyes fixed on
the beacon... my heart
fixed on you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baseball is a game where a curve is an optical illusion, a screwball can be a pitch or a person, stealing is legal and you can spit anywhere you like except in the umpire's eye or on the ball.
quote by James Patrick Murray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coach Joe
Thirty years gone by
My senior year
Past many sunsets
Playing baseball
Coached
By an icon named Joe
His two hundreth win
Was hard to get
When it finally came
This game, Ill never forget
We started the year at eight and 0
His win total, at one ninety-nine
Lost eight straight
Then, we lost our minds
The celebration cake, got stale
Doing nothing right
Though we tried, with all our might
Depression, set in
Would he get that
Two hundreth win?
Hooray, It did finally arrive
Extra innings
A game for the ages
A tear in his eye
Again, this team was alive
'It's the little things'
He would say
That count in this game
On this field
In life, in every way
He called us knuckle heads
At times, he did yell
Was he joking or not?
Hell, we could'nt tell
My seven brothers
Were coached by this man
Giving all he had
To this small town clan
As long as I live
I 'll never forget
He called us by our last name
Knew everyone of us
Just the same
We will never, forget
Nor will we, ever regret
The discipline this man showed
Making men of boys'
Playing baseball
Learning heartaches and joys
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Brother
How you gonna say what you can and cant do,
Sitting in the crib, parked in front of the tube.
Youre mad at the world like she owe you,
What you think opportunitys gonna come looking for you?
Not a damn thing changed.
Youre just another football waiting to be tossed in the game.
Youre flossing again,
You talk a good game, but youre still trying hard to maintain.
Little brother, a ship cant sail without the water.
The world could be yours if you want her,
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Everyday youre out slinging that thing.
No worries or cares of what your mama may say.
Trying to get what you want in your life.
The cars, the clothes, the hos, the ice.
Not a damn thing changed.
Youre still another football waiting to be tossed in the game.
Youre flossing again,
You talk a good game,
But youre still struggling hard to maintain.
Little brother, a ship cant sail without the water, no.
The world could be yours if you want her,
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Little brother, no, a ship cant sail without the water.
The world could be yours if you want her,
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Everything you want could be yours if you were just to try.
All the troubles that you feel will fade away like shooting stars across the sky.
All the dreams I hope you feel soon, someday, shall be fulfilled.
Time is moving rapidly.
Dont let it pass you by, yeah.
Little brother, a ship cant sail without the water, no.
The world could be yours (world is yours) if you want her, (world is yours)
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Little brother, no,
A ship (you know we gotta love one another now) cant sail without the water.
The world could be yours (world is yours) if you want her, (world is ours)
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Little brother, a ship cant sail without the water, no.
The world could be yours if you want her (the world is yours),
But you gotta be willing to go out and get it.
When you get it, keep winning.
Little brother, get it now, a ship cant sail without the water...
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's miracle
Say not
That this is just a game.
As I watch the little boys play
After a heavy school day
He goes straight to the field,
And there he is in his element
Raising up the dust
As he scores that goal.
Say not
That this is just a game.
As the boys make their football
Collecting plastic from the dumps
And cutting ropes that were washing lines.
As the boys create a pitch
Or just play on the road,
They take sticks or stones
And they build a goal.
Say not
That this is just a game.
As these boys return home at night
Return to be whipped after their delight
The ball will be smashed,
The plastic seperated from the rope
And the field will be taken.
To the farmers and goat herders it will be given
But the boys collect themselves, with undying determination
And they go back to playing football.
Say not
That this is just a game.
As the scout sees that young player
And he is sent to England
Maybe he will play with Man U or maybe Inter.
He sees a world far from home
From sunny rays to raindropp beats.
Say not
That this is just a game.
As that girl plays on the boy's team
She raises rumours,
As people see her and say she will not marry
She drops her bucket of water and goes to be goalie.
The boys boo and make fun of her
But they know she is a very good player.
And she is an example to other little girls
Who long for that ball and not for pearls.
Say not
That this is just a game.
As old men sleep in bars
Just so they can see that match
Of their favourite English team,
And when they reach home their angry wives will ask
'What will that team give you if they win? '
The men will go to bed silent
But their minds know the answer
'They will give me pride, and honour.'
Say not
That this is just a game.
As the world cup starts
Linking whole nations.
And in that stadium
There is no such thing as rich, poor, colour or religion.
Because everybody will mix
As they go to cheer their country,
And their players from Eto'o to Messi.
Say not
That this is just a game.
When that player has the ball
At the box for a penalty
And it is the finale
When all hearts will stop.
And all breaths are held.
And when that goal is scored,
Each cheer is louder than the next
Every person with smiles so big
Both in the stands and on the field
There stand a connection of confusion,
But also true happiness.
Say not
That this is just a game.
When the team will hold that cup
And the whole country becomes a champion
Every man, every woman, and all the children.
It's name goes down in history
And it will be known as a cup holding nation.
Say not
That this is just a game.
No, this is football.
This is God's miracle,
To that little boy and girl
To that man who knows the answer
To not one but all,
And to you and me as well
Say not
That this is just a game.
For this, this is football!
poem by Mariam de Haan
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I think that the game is the game. I think that expansion is good for the game because it gives more jobs to the people and more ballplayers can play, but I think the game is still the game. The ballplayers, they come into the game with one thing in mind - it's their job.
quote by Tony Oliva
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Got The Deal
I lived my life one way too long.
Deal me straight, I can't go wrong.
A gambler's fate's in the cards he takes,
And now I know it's just a mistake.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
You got the . . .
Left our dreams on a lonely road.
Come back here with a heavy load.
Fight our best when the chips are down.
You go your way, and I'll win this round.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
LEAD BREAK
You live your life for the dollar sign.
And all that you've made,
You're just buying time.
But time takes it toll,
It don't care who you are
You know you're marked for life
With your empty heart.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
I don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
Don't know the game,
But you got the deal.
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I haven't seen a player in this game, as long as I've been in it, that can't be pitched to... Barry is an outstanding ballplayer. I respect him an awful lot. I also have confidence in my pitchers that they can pitch to Barry Bonds and get him out.
quote by Frank Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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