It never gets better than this
A mustard smile on my face
A hot dog, a beer, on opening day
When every team’s still in first place.

Now is the time for extravagant dreams
‘Cause nobody wants to remember
All the bad hops and bobbled balls
That broke our hearts last September.



The world of late is dark and damp
But I think I see some sun
“Pitchers and catchers report to camp”
The pre-game show has begun!

Chilly football, indoor hoops
Seem so yesterday
When daisies peek up through the grass
And Baseball’s on the way!



My heroes are strong and brave and swift
And they all wear Dodger Blue
Their pedigree is rich in champs
And bums and losers too.

They stand astride our civic pride
Protecting hallowed ground
From Padres wearing camouflage
Or Giants prowling ‘round.

So take me out to the ballgame
Where true hearts beat as one
To the dazzling dance of a double play
Or a stolen base undone.

I’ll root, root, root for the Dodgers
In the storied old tradition
And never mind if they’re hitting like bums
With runners in scoring position.

Oh, baseball’s a tricky and fickle sport
And fans do well to remember
That June’s fly ball that clears the wall
Is just a long out in September.

If the baseball gods look the other way
And leave us with sad souvenirs
Then hope springs eternal, 'cause Baseball’s forever
And fans say…wait till next year.

I must believe in the Dodgers
I know they can still go and get ‘em
But just about every damn season
They break my heart if I let ‘em.



The batter squared off on a two-and-oh pitch,
And he got good wood on the ball,
He headed for first and everyone thought,
Now, that one’s over the wall!

The home crowd cheered the flight of the ball,
As it sailed up and away,
In the blue, blue sky with baseball clouds,
What a perfect home run day!

But the center fielder was on the run,
He leaped and crashed into the wall,
With his glove just a few inches over the fence,
And staggered away with the ball.

Forty-one thousand went Ohhhhhhhhh,
And sat back down in their seats,
To wait for the next bit of action,
The next one of baseball’s small treats.

Meanwhile, cut short on his home run trot,
Our batter had met his match,
So he tipped his helmet to center field,
‘Cause that was a helluva catch.

Baseball is known to reward our patience,
With many small gems to remember,
It also reminds us there’s always a catch,
To grabbing the gold in September.


© 2017 Ellen Griffith - RECALL MUSIC