Baseball Players Don’t Cry
Baseball Players Don’t Cry
Nick Boyer
I’m at the minor league baseball game with my girlfriend
when a can-of-corn pop fly floats to the center fielder
and the ball pops in and out of his glove
onto the finely manicured grass.
There is a great gasp from the crowd
and it’s not because we are all landscaping purists.
The center fielder reaches down and throws the ball in,
trying to act as calm as possible, which makes it worse.
It’s then that I remember playing little league baseball,
striking out and trying to stay calm before throwing my helmet, crying,
and receiving a warning from the umpire. I kept crying,
and it wasn’t because I struck out, it was because the moment wasn’t over yet.
I tense up in my seat (at the minor league game) and I’m not sure why
until the center fielder turns his back to us and walks back to his position.
I am silently begging him not to cry, because the first tear is never the last,
and the umpires don’t want the game to be slower than it already is.
Nick Boyer is a 20-something-year-old poet living in Upstate New York. His poetry has been published in Taj Mahal Review, StreetLit, Verses from the Underground, and other literary journals. If poetry is like ice cream, he just wants to have his own flavor.
Elliot Lin is a law school student who spends their free time musing about sports and how they shape or reflect identity. You can find their other sports-related illustrations here, on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.
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