Conference 7.286::sports_90

192.0. "The Crack of a Bat" by YUPPY::STRAGED () Wed Mar 21 1990 02:38

    Now that the bargaining is over, we can turn to the serious matter
    of playing ball!!
    
    But no season can start without reading Dick Roraback's famous poem
    for ex-pats.  DR was a Sports Editor for the IHT in the 50s and
    60s and while living in Paris wrote the following, ever-lasting
    ode for all overseas lovers of America's Favorite Pastime.
    
    (Note: It following has been published in the IHT every year since
    it was first published in the early 1960s.)
                                       
    
    			THE CRACK OF A BAT
    
    			by Dick Roraback
    
    Away on this side of the ocean
    When the chestnuts are hinting of green
    And the first of the cafe commandos
    Are moving outside for a fine
    And the sound of spring beats a bolero
    As Paree sheds her coat and her hat
    The sound that is missed more than any
    Is the sound of the crack of a bat.
    
    There's an animal kind of a feeling
    There's a stirring down at Vincennes Zoo
    And the kid down the hall's getting restless
    Taking stairs like a young kangaroo
    Now the dandy is walking his poodle
    And the concierge sunning her cat
    But the heart's with the Cubs and the Tigers
    And the sound of the crack of a bat.
    
    In the park on the corner run schoolboys
    With a couple of cartons for props
    Kicking goals a la Fontaine or Kopa
    While a little guy chickies for cops
    "Goal for us," "No its not." "You're a liar,"
    Then the classical shrieks of a spat
    But its not like a rhubarb at home plate
    Or the sound of the crack of a bat.
    
    Here the stadia thrill to the scrumdowns
    And the soccer fans flock to the games
    And the chic punt the nags out at Longchamp
    Where the women are Dames and not dames
    But its different at Forbes and at Griffith
    The homes of the Buc and the Nat
    Where the hotdog and peanut share laurels
    With the sound of the crack of a bat.
    
    No, a Yank can't describe to a Frenchman
    The rasp of an umpire's call
    The continuing charms of statistics
    Changing hist'ry with each strike and ball
    Nor the self-conscious jog of the slugger
    Rounding third with the tip of his hat
    Nor the half-smothered grace of a hook slide
    Nor the sound of the crack of a bat.
    
    Now, the golfer is buffing his niblick
    And the tennis buff's tightening his strings
    And the fisherman's flexing his flyrod
    Like a thousand and one other springs
    Oh, the sports on both sides of the ocean
    Have a great deal in common, at that
    But the thing that's not HERE
    At this time of the year
    Is the sound of the crack of a bat.
                                

GREAT poem!

I tried explaining baseball to some German friends one time.  All
they could see was the slowness of the game.  I tried without
success to explain the "game within a game" of the pitcher vs hitter,
but no such luck....

Baseball is one thing that ties us together.  The one time that 
I can always remember my Dad and I having something totally in 
common it was baseball.  I could listen to him for HOURS telling
of who he'd seen, and what Fenway was like years ago...

I remember in '67, the day the Sox won the Pennant, my Dad had this
smile on his face that would not quit...all day.

Yes, baseball is a thread in our lives, a lore passed down from
father to son (and daughter...)

Nothin' like a beer and a hot dog at a game with your Dad....

Chainsaw

                                 * � M � � *

	anyone got an aloe tissue?  
    
    	and a barf bag?  thanks. 8^)

�	anyone got an aloe tissue?  

	Check  with  Germaine.

Mike JN

C'mon Mike....get it straight...Tito is the one with the Tissues!