About The New Season: A Poem

About The New Season: A Poem

By Tim Kabel

March 24, 2026

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Tomorrow is Opening Day. In honor of that, I would like to submit the poem I wrote a few years ago which is becoming a tradition for me. Opening Day signals hope for the season as well as a fresh start which coincides with Spring.  Here is hoping for a great season for the Yankees.

Opening Day 

 The boy entered the great stadium, wearing his new cap and clutching his grandfather's hand 

It was his first time there, but since he was missing school, he knew it was for something grand 

As they came out of the tunnel, the boy glimpsed the sky of azure blue, the field so fresh and green 

He could hardly breathe; it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen 

His young head was flooded with a myriad of sights, sounds, and scents 

His grandfather smiled and rubbed the lad's head, knowing it was a day well spent 

The boy and the old man watched their team take the field and jumped up with a cheer 

The lad was so energized that he spilled someone's beer 

They watched the game closely; the boy learned, while the grandfather taught 

They ate and they laughed but, the boy spent the day deep in thought 

The grandfather was bestowing a gift, passing on his love of the game 

He knew that one day in the future, the lad would do the same 

The pitcher took the field with his teammates, to a roar, long and loud 

As he kicked the dirt on the mound, he scanned the crowd 

He caught sight of the boy and his grandfather, and he smiled 

For a moment, he was in the crowd, once again, a child 

Soon, the pitcher went to work, something he did with joy 

His mastery and command brought a sense of wonderment to the boy 

The grandfather watched with a keen eye, the way the pitcher controlled the game 

The old man knew his grandson would never be the same 

He had passed on to the boy a love for the game that would last all his days 

He had help from the hurler; the boy's eyes sparkled watching his pitches blaze 

The pitcher left the mound, the game well in-hand, to deafening cheers 

Memories rushed in as he saw the old man and the boy, and his eyes welled with tears 

The grandfather watched the game with joy but, also a touch of sorrow 

Yesterday, he had been the one on the mound but, now it was tomorrow 

Once, he had been the hero; the one basking in the glory 

Today, he was the witness to someone else's story 

On the way home, he would tell the boy of his exploits and feats 

After today, the lad would cherish the tales as wonderful treats 

The grandfather remembered his own prowess and skill 

Yet, he watched with admiration as the pitcher worked from the hill 

There was a thread that connected the grandfather, the pitcher and the boy 

Something that filled them each in their own way, with wonder and joy 

At some point in time, they would all be in each other's place 

As the game itself moved at its leisurely and beautiful pace