‘You can’t see the cost of winning…lines on my forehead…my wife, daughter and son left behind’
“Glory years catch action shots / arm whips and body contortions / a human catapult / the backs of those cards / cite numbers / that tell stories of saves, wins, flags, records / handshakes, butt slaps, celebration mobs / you can’t see / the cost of winning / lines on my forehead under the hat / trench line between my eyes / you don’t see my wife, daughter and son left behind…”
A reader sent me an interesting poem by baseball player-turned poet Dan Quisenberry. Quisenberry was a dominant relief pitcher in the early ’80s who used an unusual, whip-like submarine delivery (pictured). In the latter stages of his career and after retirement he wrote poetry, publishing numerous poems. Tragically, he died of brain cancer at age 45. The poem below is “Baseball Cards.” To learn more, see Heather Henderson’s article Dan Quisenberry–In His Own Words.
Baseball Cards
By Dan Quisenberry
that first baseball card I saw myself
in a triage of rookies
atop the bodies
that made the hill
we played king of
I am the older one
the one on the right
game-face sincere
long red hair unkempt
a symbol of the ’70s
somehow a sign of manhood
you don’t see
how my knees shook on my debut
or my desperation to make it
the second one I look boyish with a gap-toothed smile
the smile of a guy who has it his way
expects it
I rode the wave’s crest
of pennant and trophies
I sat relaxed with one thought
“I can do this”
you don’t see
me stay up till two reining in nerves
or post-game hands that shook involuntarily
glory years catch action shots
arm whips and body contortions
a human catapult
the backs of those cards
cite numbers
that tell stories of saves, wins, flags, records
handshakes, butt slaps, celebration mobs
you can’t see
the cost of winning
lines on my forehead under the hat
trench line between my eyes
you don’t see my wife, daughter and son left behind
the last few cards
I do not smile
I grim-face the camera
tight lipped
no more forced poses to win fans
eyes squint
scanning distance
crow’s-feet turn into eagle’s claws
you don’t see
the quiver in my heart
knowledge that it is over
just playing out the end
I look back
at who I thought I was
or used to be
now, trying to be funny
I tell folks
I used to be famous
I used to be good
they say
we thought you were bigger
I say
I was
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December 15th, 2007 at 10:09 pm
“you don’t see my wife, daughter and son left behind”
Only someone in old age can say that now. Today’s middle aged men have been left behind. Thrown away, like cards.
Odd, isn’t it, that women used to complain that men were beasts for neglecting the family in pursuit of career. Women aren’t beastly of course. They are ‘empowered’.
What we do see is how women’s knees shake on their debut
and their desperation to make it. Of course, they blame men for that, too. Will they see, in time, with such poigniancy?