Foul Ball

 

I was appalled, yet somehow inspired–“shocked, but not surprised” as I so often hear people say, without any sense of self-contradiction– by a news item this morning.  The news said, that Rudy Giuliani, the former President’s attorney, came up with the idea of losing the election, but then saying, that they won.

This idea proved quite popular.  And a perfectly good election has been given the third degree, as a result.

During this month of empty-standed Tokyo Olympics games, it occurred to me, that this lack of sportsmanship would never fly, in any other sport.  Only in politics.

This poem ensued.  For any not familiar with baseball,  I’m so sorry.  I don’t think I could explain it, if I tried.

Hope you enjoy it, anyway.

 

The pitcher winds up,

Plants his feet,

And rises,

Like a cartwheel.

 

The ball, it whizzes

To the plate.

The batter waits,

A spring,

 

All coiled and ready.

Strikes the ball,

And hits it

With a venom,

 

Releasing it,

To catapult

Into the

Cheering crowd.

 

The pitcher, shameless,

Raises mitt,

To stoke his own

Side’s anger.

 

With air-borne beer

And plastic cups,

His crowd rains down

Its ire.

 

The umpire, meek,

Submits to them,

Allows a flag

To flutter,

 

Though not a one

Has seen an error.

Yet, he judges:

“Foul!”

 

The pitcher gloats.

And spits. And jigs.

With roaring

Adulation,

 

The crowd exacts

A strange revenge

Upon the

Winning team.

 

The winners watch,

In disbelief.

His strategy

Is working:

 

“Although the facts

betray our acts,

Let’s lose–

And say we won.”

 

Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew

 

For a short short story describing a different kind of sleight-of-hand, read Widow’s Walk.