Gone Fishin' at Ebbets Field

A couple of friends’ recent musings (you know who you are)

Reminded me of  the happiest day I ever spent with you.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go fishin’.  It’s the opening game.”

That’s what you said when you picked me up

At school just after noon on that nice October day.

We drove to the coast, and went out on the pier, and

With a twist of the radio dial, we were at Ebbets Field.

Dropping hooks in the water, we lined up at the rail:

A bunch of old men, Vin Scully, you and me,

A tom-boyish girl in dirty Keds and torn dungarees.

“Play ball!”  And they did, your Trolley Dodgers

And the Bombers; you know who I mean.

We didn’t know it then, but it was close to the end.

We won that day, but lost 4-3 with the last.  Maybe

That’s why they turned tail and headed for LA land.

We listened to the play-by-play that day, with names

That would one day be legend:  Mantle and Ford,

Robinson, Hodges and Berra.  And I caught a big fish,

With the old men all cheering and you smiling proudly.

“That’s my girl,” you said.  “A chip off the old block.”.

I wish I had known it would be the last time.  There were

No more World Series for the Bombers and your boys.

They betrayed you and you never forgave them.

And there were no more fishing trips for you and your girl.

Your new girl hated fishing; this girl found boys of her own.

But today I remembered, as I do every year when

The new boys of summer take up bats and fans cheer.

That was the best day I ever had with my dad,

And looking back, I'm really glad that you wanted to share

Your boys, the Bombers and fishing on that wooden pier.

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This is my entry at One Shot Wednesday.