By Chris Heckert
RS Sophomore Pitcher
February 3, 2013
Heart warming to the love of the game
Surpassing the fame
Our name flowing
On the backs of our brothers
Preparing to battle all others
Gratitude to our fathers and mothers
For the chance to lose ourselves.
In the pitch, the catch, the tag, the lights
Taking the field, can’t describe what it’s like
As if we were just nine
Putting our toes to the foul line
For the first time,
And taking our position,
Not just a rendition
But a game played with intuition.
Born with the ability
Too good to be reality
Playing with the tranquility
Of the little boy inside
Lost at times
But ever present in our minds.
When we let him play outside
And run to the beat that hides
In feet pounding
Defining the moment
Where his breathing quickens
He tries to control it
But the air only thickens.
Staring back from behind the plate
Crowd roaring, eager to learn his fate.
On this date, he controls the odds
And nods stepping up to the batters box
To lock his focus on
Becoming strength in the darkness before the dawn.
And the little boy grows into a man
Understanding the situation at hand
Sticking to his plan
A realization so grand
Locked and loaded.
Ready to let his bat fly.
The little boy and man play as one together,
Emerging hardened from the weather.
— CHRIS HECKERT