Baseball was his passion and he held a special dream,
to play the game he loved, for a major league team.
He possessed broad shoulders, stood 6 foot 4,
and could smack homeruns, that would soar.
He pitched fiercely with a rocket for an arm,
and could run down rabbits, back on the farm.
Men admired him, women loved his good looks,
kids often begged him, to autograph their books.
A hero too many and the toast of the town,
treated like a cherished king, without the crown.
Playing in the city league, he stood above the rest,
and everyone agreed, "Mountain Joe was the best!"
Whether he was pitching or standing at the plate,
opposing players trembled, Joe controlled their fate.
He led the Giants to the championship game,
against cross-town rivals; Eagles were their name.
As the game approached, word spread all about,
sitting in the stands that day, a major league scout!
Stores closed early, the stadium filled fast,
thousands came to watch the game, the seasons last.
Aroma of popcorn and hot dogs filled the air,
and rumor had it, every townsfolk was there.
The anthem was sung; Joe strolled to the mound,
and the ballpark thundered with a deafening sound.
Applause erupted and hearts filled with pride,
as Mountain Joe promptly, struck out the side.
Bell and Gus flew out, before Joe's turn to bat,
then he smashed a double to right and tipped his hat.
There he stayed unable to advance,
Brown struck out, so back to the mound Joe pranced.
Both teams battled on this unforgettable day,
the Eagles hung tough they had come to play.
Joe had 14 strikeouts and batted 4 for 4,
but in the bottom of the ninth, still no score.
Knowing only one run was all they needed,
Joe walked to the plate as the children pleaded,
"You can do it Mountain Joe, don't be outdone,
show those Eagle bums a long homerun!"
Joe tightened his grip and spit out his chaw,
and glared at the pitcher with a stiffened jaw.
Determined not to fail or be outclassed,
Joe swung at the ball and there was a blast.
Where the ball landed nobody knows,
all agreed it was a powerful blow.
The umpire spoke up ending the suspense,
and announced to the crowd, "over the fence!"
With the umps declaration, Joe circled the bases,
except for the Eagles, elation was on all faces.
Joe was mobbed at home plate, fans cheered his name,
and that is the story how Mountain Joe won the game.
After the game, the scout found Mountain Joe
and admitted to him, "You are the best I know!"
"It was a treat to watch you, but I won't be back,
it's a darn shame kid, you were born black."
I had to do an assignment for a class in college that pertained to African American history. I chose to write about the Negro baseball leagues. In doing so, I became intrigued with the history and the many skillful players that came from that era. I also became ashamed of the many people of my country for not allowing African Americans to play in the major leagues, simply because of the color of their skin. Despite the many talents that these players possessed, they were denied the right to play in the majors until Jackie Robinson broke the color line in 1946. This poem is a reminder of the injustice African American ballplayers endured. Hopefully those years are behind us now and all people regardless of color have the opportunity to play our country's national pastime, the great game of baseball.
