Recollections of a Baseball Coach

It must have been thirty five years ago now,
I remember the kid as clear as day
His name was Eddie, or Timmy or something
Remember him clear as day, I think it was Eddie
Well, this kid was sure something
A true believer in his ability to play the game
He really loved it, sucked at it, but the desire
You could see it in them brown eyes of his
Or were they blue?, no matter…they might have been brown
Anyways, kid had desire, no talent, but desire
Played third base for me, thought he was a pitcher
But, he played third…that I’m sure of
He didn’t have speed enough to move anywhere else
And I think he was blind in his right eye,
So, he could only move left
Good kid, Timmy or Eddie
Had an arm like a rocket
the ball would just explode out of his hand
I never knew where it was going
And truthfully, I don’t think he did either
But, wow….it went fast, wherever it ended up
Kid actually made it rain one day
Just because he threw the damn ball so high into the clouds
He was trying to throw to first, but hell, it went high
Always smiling this kid, always…
don’t know if he was just happy
Or if his jaw hadn’t grown right for his teeth,
But, he was always smiling
couldn’t hit worth a damn, had a nice swing
But, that blind eye….couldn’t see a pitch until it hit him
Cooled us down on the bench though
Made a hell of a breeze when he swung
He was good for that,
lots of wind from Eddie, or Timmy
He did get a hit once or twice, I remember that
Scared us, scared him too I imagine
But, he did hit it, and it did go a long way
Problem was it happened so infrequently
He always forgot to run
And when he did, he ran like a duck
Ass wobbled all over, arms flailing, head still
Quack, Quack…run Eddie, I’d yell
He’d smile, and take off,
couldn’t see where he was going
But he’d run….and he’d stop only when he felt like it
I remember he was Mexican looking, or Spanish
There, brown eyes…knew I’d remember
anyways, he got called out for swearing once
Knocked the damn cover off the ball
then he stood there and watched it go
By the time he started to run,
He’d Holy shitted at least three times
And got tossed by the umpire
I argued, but, the ump would draw the line at two
Three holy shits…that’s a little much
But, he knocked that ball into the next county
He’d probably throw it there too if he tried
The kid had desire, no talent,
but a smile and desire
Got tossed after striking out once too
Struck out a lot, once he let loose with a barrage
And I mean a barrage of swear words ….In Italian no less
I always thought the kid was Mexican or Spanish or something
But, he swore in Italian in front of an Italian ump
Poor kid, three holy shits in another language
And he got tossed,
If I could get him to stop at two….he’d be fine
Eddie was a good kid, I liked him
He tried, he smiled, and he was terrible
couldn’t hit water if he fell out of a boat
But he didn’t care, and neither did I
But, Eddie, or Timmy, whoever he was
Was a good kid,
I hope he remembers me as fondly as I do him.

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