AC Tesla

"It's all fluid, right?" I say

When they're glancing at each other

And

The other way

When I can't tell the difference

Water from mud

Trickle from the awful

Thud

"But I intend" I cry

When they sharply glance

At my forehead

Not my eye

"To crawl

To breathe with the laughing dead

To laugh with my dying breath

To lie down

To lie still

Still"

Caught him

Hurt him badly

Threw his whirling tripe

Into the swirling lap of heaven

I have known him

Since I saw him

Peeking around the frame

Cleaner than the ground he stood on

Taller than the clouds that towed him

Thin as death

And ugly

I suppose

I hate him fairly well

But I grow older every day

And my voice

Breaks with the grace of a tree

Onto a lady's bonnet

Threw him away

He said

Not I

I swear

Not he

What am I afraid of?

Occurrences?

Failings?

Being weak?

Being gone?

Being wrong?

If life is a competition

What if I lose?

I walk on a straight river

It is green and I feel a beard

Plant itself

To justify my oddness

The dwarfish scrabblings of the suits along the water

Remind me that I had better not start sinking

They would have me drown

After all this time

So they could say

"He tried to do his best

But he could not"

The argument that hitting a baseball is the most difficult of all sporting achievements is often supported by the fact that a .300 average is the measure of greatness. Is this sound? Here are a few arguments against such reasoning:

Pitching is more or less the act of preventing hitting, yes? If that is the case and hitting is the hardest aspect of sport, then pitching must be among the easiest since even the worst pitchers only allow a .350 batting average that is, the hitter still fails 6.5 times of 10. (How's that for dizzying intellect?)

The rate of success is not always an indicator of the difficulty of success. As an example, ice hockey goaltenders often save over 90% of attempted goals. If then, the rate of success at scoring a goal is say, 8 or 9% (or batting average of .090) then isn't scoring a goal the most difficult act in sports? (or is goaltending the easiest?)

I say that the truth is somewhere in the middle. Hitting the ball isn't that hard. Look at a mediocre hitter named Jeff Keppinger. Though considered by many unworthy of a major league roster spot he put the ball in play %93 of the time last season in over 500 chances. Any healthy person can learn to put the bat on the ball. That fact, along with the reality that pristine physical form is not required to be a great hitter, disqualifies hitting in my mind from it's oft granted spot as the biggest accomplishment in athletics.

What do you think? Please try, if you wish to abuse my logic, to follow it first.

Baseball is by far my favorite sport. I have to admit though, that baseball accommodates the worst athletes. I think we owe some of baseball's appeal to the fact that the old, fat, and slow can and do succeed. What do you think?

(Don't tell that baseball has many great athletes, I know that.)

I can see them coming

Riding on the glorious breast of fickle spring

Rolling on the careless no look coolness of the night

In the grass

Somewhere in that field

Two dimples where I bent my knees to God or Grief

Scraped my guts with the rust of unforgivable blunder

And watched a swallow

I suppose

I'm getting older every day

But I grow taller and taller

And my voice

Breaks with the grace of a tree

Onto a ladies bonnet

I can see

I'll not touch the blades again

Or feel the warm compassion of a lie

To a cripple

Do the disproportionate salaries of current players disrespect the greatness of the legends?

I'm not afraid of dogs

Hairy hot monsters

Foaming red hatred

At my kneecaps

I have punched one

In the head

Or the dark

Mouth of the Earth

Or at least the pores

I have been where no one

Ever has

In the cool virgin mud

With a cut on your back

And a knot on your head

And the beautiful knowledge

That this isn't normal

And the cruel ecstasy

When you turn your back

On the yelping wriggle

Comedy

Of a dwarf trying to cover his tracks

Lasts forever

I suppose from space

It's all the same, and silly too

But we have to be proud of something

And my legs

Are a poor mans' rocketship

I think I know....

My dad was a man

I remember his muscles

(They didn't call him machine arm

For nothing)

And my glee

When I could lift him

Sweating in the woods

He might smile and

Toss a clod

Or hit his head and

Say "Oh mommy"

He invented the word

Interpretater

Dad was a man

I remember his limp

And my sadness

When I could outrun him

She spent his money

Sped the universe

Between town and town

In fear

Of reaction

Hair and face and fingernails

To come home and fidget

For his amazed

Realize

He only said

"You smell like Smarties"

The forest is a place for waiting

He said

Danced in his head

From fence to canoe

To Natalie

Her body he thought

Was his church

And he was pious

And as he prepared

In his mind

The eucharist

A tree

The forest

He said

Dimming

Looks dark

He woke up

And it was like finding

A strange hand

In his pocket

I said

"You aren't kind to me

You hurt me with your muscles.

You are smart

And you know it"

"Aaah" he said

Swallowing a baseball

I touched her in my sleep

In my sleep (my dreams)

If that is what she felt

Did she think

I was hoping?

I snorted in the back seat

Coming home from riding

If that is what she heard

Did she think

I was crying?

I was caught in liquid

In corners

Under the shadow

With blurs and heat

In my throat

With fear

I was dead

Or dying

When night ended

I stood by the railway

To see the sun come up

If that is what she saw

Did she think

I was thinking?

With the exception of the

Wide head turtle

They are so mean

The Great Rocky Mountain Turtle

(on the other hand)

Loves peace to the extreme

I have seen it

Extend its head

(to a wide head turtle)

So the Evil Thing can bite it off

More comfortably.

Do you absurd bickering easterners really care about baseball, or is it the politics and drama you enjoy?

My serious question is about Jay Gibbons. Do you think he can have a successful several years to end his interesting and unfortunate career? I think I'm rooting for his success, you?

Lou Brock was more of a revolutionary player, his inferior statistics may therefore be somewhat discounted. Henderson and Raines, though, were contemporaries. Who of the three was better?

If you doubt the propriety of Raines' placement in this list, check his statistics (player 3) in the question I posted previously.

Player 1 has the following 162 game averages in 25 years of play:

AB-576 AVG-279 R-121 H-161 2B-27 3B-3 HR-16 RBI-59 SB-74 CS-18 BB-115 SO-89

Player 1 has the following defensive(OF)totals :

FLD%-979 E-141 A-133

Player 1 also has 1 gold glove award, obtained in a season

during which his defensive #s were: FLD%-979 E-7 A-7

Player 1 has a lifetime stolen base % of .808

---------------------------------------------

Player 2 has the following 162 game averages in 19 years of play:

AB-640 AVG-293 R-100 H-187 2B-30 3B-9 HR-9 RBI-56 SB-58 CS-19

BB-47 SO-107

Player 2 has the following defensive(OF)totals:

FLD%-959 E-195 A-142

Player 2 has a lifetime stolen base % of .753

---------------------------------------------

Player 3 has the following 162 game averages in 23 years of play:

AB-574 AVG-294 R-102 H-169 2B-28 3B-7 HR-11 RBI-63 SB-52 CS-9

BB-86 SO-63

Player 3 has the following defensive(OF)totals:

FLD%-988 E-54 A-134

Player 3 has 10 seasons in which all of his defensive numbers are equal to, or superior to, those had by player 1 in his gold glove year.

Player 3 has a lifetime stolen base % of .847

---------------------------------------------

Player 1 was inducted into the HOF on his first ballot, receiving 94.8% of votes.

Player 2 was inducted into the HOF on his first ballot, receiving 79.7% of votes.

Player 3 has, in his 3 times on the HOF ballot, received, 24.3%, 22.6%, and 30.4% of votes.

Please explain.

If the Earth must speak

Let it say what it needs to...wants to

For who should tell a leaf to turn, this brown or that red

Or say how it feels to hold a world on it's head

Or tell the pain of the force of stars and suns

Than the Earth?