“Baseball”By: Michael Pagano

Period 2

Mrs. Love

The Perfect Game

The reason I picked this poem was because it had a lot of rhyming and had a good topic. The picture it had at the top really drew me to it because it was a cool baseball picture. Then the poem was very good to go along with the picture which made it a good poem to pick for my project. This poem is a good example of one with imagery in it. This is because you can imagine being out on the field playing under the lights and having lots of fun.

I can feel the tension building, Our team's down by three - Bases are loaded, it's in the ninth inning, The batter stands there like a tree. His steady eyes pierce the man on the mound, Fierce concentration cuts all of the sound. He plants his feet, sure of his might, his grip on the bat, knuckles white. He takes the first strike, high inside corner, The second pitch flew - a wicked chin burner. He could feel the wind but never flinched, The next curved towards his knees, They moved not an inch. A hysterical crowd now wants to see blood - The noise drowns his brain Like a powerful flood. His gut says the pitcher's fast ball will end it, And when it comes, he'll know where to send it. His anger whipped the bat around - A deafening crack, right to the mound. But it was up and away, A four run homer that saved the day!

The Batter By: Kenneth C. Hoffman

The BatterI like this poem because it is very catchy and fun to read and had a lot of good rhymes to keep a good flow to it. I chose it because of the title initially, but once I read it I got a feeling that got me excited to read the rest of the poem. Also it had a lot of rhymes and a good simile thrown in there to make it interesting. Rhyming is really the main thing in the poem and without them the poem wouldn't’t have a fluency that it has with them. A poem that rhymes is an easy and enjoyable poem to read.

Gather 'round you fans of baseball you lovers of season past, let me take you back to the greatest team that ever played on grass.Guided by Miller Huggins known as "murderer's row," never was such a string of pearls so feared this side of Hell.Greedy was this awesome bunch with Ruth and Gehrig leading the punch, and Hoyt and Moore on the mound shooting all the batters down.Gasping crowds assemble like sinners in a tent, watching all the other teams trying to repent.God blessed those boys of summer those pin-striped renegades, with a winning passion while others saw only the haze.Gathering in the rosebuds by playing excellent ball, called the "five o'clock lightning" taking the pennant in the fall.Gone were any pretenders to the throne no one stood wherever these Yankees roamed, twenty-five men

made up this team and all had a year better than their dreams.

1927 Yankees by Robert L. Harrison

1927 Yankees

I liked the poem because it was catchy and had a good feel to it and was a fun poem to read. I like how it talks about one of the greatest teams of all time and that’s why I specifically chose it to put into my project. Also I chose to use it because it had a lot of rhyming in it which I enjoy reading poems with a lot of rhyming in them because it makes them interesting. One specific thing about the poem that stood out to me was there were a lot of similes and imagery. You can definitely imagine being on the field with that team and experiencing what they went through that year.

T'was the greatest group of men, ever to play, On a diamond, with a ball, every dayThere was Joe, there was Johnny, and then there was Pete, The whole team was sturdy, as two ton concreteDown at first there was Tony, always catching them square, And at second was Joe, who could run like a mareDave held up short, never missing a beat, And fielding at third, no one else, but PeteThe outfield was anchored, by three all their own, Foster, Griffey, and Geronimo, no better were knownIndividually the best, well maybe not quite, But together they put up one hell of a fightAll who watched, those 8 play the game, Knew something was up, they were destined for fameAnd sure enough, two years back to back, The Machine won the title, for they had the knack.Were they truly the best group, ever to play, On a diamond, with a ball, every dayIt isn't for sure, no one can agree, For many teams have put it on the line, in this land of the freeBut one thing I feel, as other Reds fans do, Those 8 played the best, as a team, as a crew.

The Machine by Stephen Porter

The MachineI liked the poem because it was about the Reds who are my favorite team. That’s also why I picked the poem was because it was about arguably the best Reds team ever, and I always like reading about the Big Red Machine. I personally just thought it was awesome that they got their own poem written about them, so I definitely had to use it. This poem to me definitely has a confident tone to it. They are talking about the guys like they are so confident in them and their abilities and also the teams ability to be great. They are pretty much saying they know they aren’t the best team on paper, but they have the biggest hearts around.

His art is eccentricity, his aimHow not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,His passion how to avoid the obvious,His technique how to vary the avoidance.The others throw to be comprehended. HeThrows to be a moment misunderstood.Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild,But every seeming aberration willed.Not to, yet still, still to communicateMaking the batter understand too late.

The Pitcher by Robert Francis

The PitcherI liked this poem because it was about just pitchers and I thought that it was cool that they focused on just pitchers because they are such a big part of the game. I also liked the wording of the poem because it was kind of tough to understand what they were saying at first, but by the end you get what the poem is truly about. I chose the poem because of its focus on pitchers and the fact that it was just a cool poem in general. The feature of this poem I noticed was the mood it had. The mood was very weird and made you feel in awe of the writer because it made you think differently about pitching and how hard the craft really is.

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 ballAnd the ball goes up and the ball comes downswings his bat all the way around The world's so still you can hear the sound The baseball falls to the groundNow 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 againAnd the ball goes up and the ball comes downswings his bat all the way around The world's so still you can hear the sound The baseball falls to the groundHe makes no excuses, He shows no fears He just closes his eyes and listens to the cheersLittle 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 timeAnd the ball goes up like the moon so bright Swings his bat with all his might And the world's so still as still can be and the baseball falls, and that's strike threeNow it's supper time and his mama 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

The Greatest by Kenny Rogers

The GreatestI really enjoyed this poem because it just kind of made me smile thinking about a little boy throwing the ball up in the air and trying to hit it. It’s so cliché in a way because to me that’s actually what I think about when I think about little kids trying to play. There actually is a commercial about this exact thing and it’s funny to read a poem about it. I chose the poem because it sounded cool and ended up being by far my favorite poem I read during my entire project. This one is imagery all the way because you can picture this in your head right away. The funny thing to me was right after the kid “struck” out on throwing the ball up and trying the hit it he went right back and said that he would be the greatest pitcher there ever was.

Diamondbacks are safe in Phoenix,  Where the ARIZ. warm and dry, And the team they COL. the Rockies,   Plays it cool a

mile high.Watch the fans become disgusted,  As

their Tigers swing ‘n’ MICH. And the Cubs are only Soso—   ILL.-at-ease, their

batters swish.If the Indians are All-Stars,   Then the Reds

are semiprOH. Give the Twins a vitaMINN.   The Cards could also use

some MO.

Baseball Parks by J. Patrick Lewis

Baseball ParksI liked this poem because of the way they used the state abbreviations in the poem to make it sound cool and interesting. It was short and sweet, but was also one of my favorite poems because of the abbreviation thing. I chose it originally because I enjoy figuring out all the teams home fields and which teams play there. A feature about the poem I noticed was the use of symbols. The abbreviations were symbols because they represented the state, but also were a big part of the poem. This poem was fun and interesting was definitely one of the better poems that I read.

Ted Williams was my idol.Ruthie and I were always the Boston Red Soxfor our farmyard baseball gamesbut I paid grudging respectto Joe DiMaggio and the Yankees –my brother's team.

Stories our dad told about the greatslike Honus Wagner, Ty Cobb, Christy Mathewson,provided an historical feel for the game.

More important than school lessons –lifetime batting averages, most runs,most hits, most stolen bases –were committed to memory.

AndAt the top of the list, recordsheld by the most famous of Yankees,the Babe –most home runs in a season,most in a lifetime –were sacred.

In the afternoon of August 16, 1948,a wave of silence,like a sharp line drive,swept the family when Momcame out to the yard and announcedto Dad, my brother, sister, and me,Babe Ruth died today!

That's all she said.As though in a trance,stunned by the news,she slowly went back inside.

Time was suspendedlike one of his towering home runsand tears were near as I struggledwith unsettling feelingslike striking out with the bases loadedin the bottom of the ninth.

Babe Ruth by Larry Eickstaedt

Babe RuthI liked this poem because it was about one of the all time legends, icons, and mysteries of the game. From his “called shot” to his trade to the Yankees, there were a lot of strange things about the Babe and a list of nicknames that went on for miles. I chose this poem strictly because it was about Babe Ruth and I have always thought of him as the main pioneer of baseball. There were a lot of similes in this poem and they all had something to thought about him as the main pioneer do with the game even when they were talking about the Babe dying. This was a long poem that was very different from the rest of them because of the length and the usage of similes and tie ins to baseball.

what I remember most is my dad behind the rusted screen back of home plate "You can hit this guy!" his voice not letting up through four fast balls (two misses swinging late, two fouls on checked swings)then the curve ball and the dying quail into left-center, the winning run sliding home, my dad all smiles, slapping backs in the bleachers as if HIS single had won the game

Winner by Gene Fehler

WinnerThis was another short poem that sounded a lot like my dad during my games. It really stuck to me personally because of how much my dad is involved in the game of baseball and my journey through the years and years of playing it. I chose the poem because the title made it sound like it would be good and then when I had a personal connection with it, it made it that much better. This poem was all imagery to me because you can picture it so well in your head, a dad giving his kid encouragement when they are hitting and the kid succeeding makes it that much better. This was the only poem so far I had a connection with so far personally and that’s why it definitely was one of my favorites.

Before the bayonet replaced the bat, Jack Marsh played second base for Yale; his spikes anchored into the August clay, his eyes set deep against the setting sun.The scouts all knew his numbers well, had studied his sure hands that flew like hungry gulls above the grass; but Uncle Sam had scouted too,had chosen first the team to play the season's final game of '44, had issued him another uniform to wear into the face of winter moonthat shone upon a snowy plain where players played a deadly game, where strikes were thrown with each grenade and high pitched echoes linger still,beyond the burned out foreign fields and boyhood dreams of bunts and steals, young Jack Marsh is rounding third, and sliding, sliding safely home.

Baseball Dreams by Charles Ghigna

Baseball DreamsI liked this poem because it talks about everybody’s boyhood dream: playing some sport professionally. Obviously every kid doesn’t have his dream realized and make it in their particular sport. It’s always fun though to see little kids at games just mesmerized by the game. I chose this poem because I definitely was one of those little kids growing up and I am still going strong to this day in baseball. Something specific about this poem was the use of hyperboles like “the deadly game” and “ strikes were thrown with each grenade.” This was a fun poem because of the memories it brought back to me playing baseball as a kid.

Five Senses

Hard work is tiring and satisfying

It tastes like victory

It sounds like running

And smells like sweat

It looks like a winning season

And makes you feel like a champion

Just Because…

Just because I’m famous

Don’t try to talk to me

Don’t look at me

Still, come to see me

Just because I’m famous

It doesn’t mean I have a mansion

It doesn’t mean I have lots of cars

It doesn’t make me arrogant

Just because I’m famous

Still love me

I can’t have everyone like me

Just because I’m famous – It’s no big deal

HaikuBaseball is a dream

the bright lights, light up the night

but it is a dream

Tanka

Baseball is changing

Replays have come into play

Collisions are banned

Challenges are in play now

Baseball is a changing sport

Diamonte

BaseballIntense, exciting

grueling, throwing, swinging

ball, bat, helmets, stickpassing, hitting, scoring

boring, tiringLacrosse