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  • Tim Kabel

Opening Day: A Poem

by Tim Kabel

March 30, 2023


Opening day is finally here. Excitement is in the air. Rather than write another article about the roster moves, I decided to post my poem about baseball and life that I first presented in SSTN last year. I hope you enjoy it.

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 and 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 of 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 a deafening cheer

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


Paul Semendinger
Paul Semendinger
Mar 30, 2023

Great poem!


This is the day when all things are possible.

Thomas Boswell said it well, "Time begins on Opening Day!"

Robert Malchman
Robert Malchman
Mar 30, 2023
Replying to

I always wanted him to write a biography of the manager of the 1986 New York Mets and call it Boswell's Life of Johnson.

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