It’s not like anyone would claim that six-
Packs enhance one’s performance (on the field).
Yet he excelled, a babe but not a child,
Setting a record to stand for a long
Time, raising it high with all of his might,
Larger than life in magnitude and weight.
Nobody really knew they had to wait.
A man does not a club make. When all five
Tools are displayed, you wish you may, you might
See brilliance, but all over the field.
An out and a home run can both go long,
Both with the exuberance of a child.
But it’s more than just a game for a child.
Those who struggle alone, with all the weight
Of prejudice and history, so long,
Perhaps just want the solace of the four
Corners, running around the pristine field
With no other care. Oh yes, they just might.
The rumors swirled. “Yes.” “No.” “Who knows?” “We might
Not know for sure.” “What happened to the child
That we had seen, watching from near the field?
Who is this man with all this excess weight?
Who challenges those great, historic, three?”
“Will there be any others before long?”
And how could anyone for whom I’d long
So much to do well now seem like he might
Be anything more than the number two
In what had drawn me to this as a child
When baseball was like this? Time will not wait.
I must face more than what was on the field.
Some promise more than brilliance in the field
And deliver a lot, over the long
Haul. And yet looking back, the decades’ weight
Doesn’t quite feel worth it. It’s like they might
Have done even more, when seen as a child,
Might someday have become the greatest one.
And now, after this wait, although it might
Not have looked from the field like all that long,
The wonder child joins them with new zeroes.