Bottom of the League

Bottom of the League

By Devon Balwit

I fear I’m the White Sox of poetry:
-79 run differential, -3.43 a game.
I suit up, stretch, field, and swing—doggedly—
but cannot shake the stats next to my name.
I start at no disadvantage. My payroll
puts me in the middle of the pack. Still, something
eludes me in the batters’ box. The greased ball
jumps my glove, the stands emptier each inning.
 
Luckily, there’s the game for the game’s sake—
the stadium lights over the green field, the dugout
with its comforting fug, the rueful butt-slaps
enroute to the showers. Someday, I’ll catch a break.
There are worse things a body could fail at.
Tomorrow, I’ll be back, dreaming of cheers and claps.

Devon Balwit walks in all weather where her White Sox cap never fails to start a conversation. When not writing, she draws and cartoons. She edits for Asimov Press and Asterisk Magazine. For more of her work, visit: https://pelapdx.wixsite.com/devonbalwitpoet

Elliot Lin is a college student who spends their free time musing about sports and how they shape or reflect identity. You can find their other baseball-related illustrations here, on Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram.

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