Doing the Seeingby Dan Taylor "This is a poem I wrote about a Carolina League perfect game (Wilson-Winston Salem) thrown by a rather obscure pitcher I saw some 29 years ago named Steve Hardin. Wishing to somehow be a part of history, after the game I ran to both dugouts and ripped the team copies of the lineups and rosters off the wall. This was enough for a 17 year old, but much later it struck me as oddly poetic that God would give a devout Christian such as Steve this kind of memory to take home during his last year of pro ball." Doing the Seeing He could pitch but Fates decreed him cursed by inconsistency. 24 is old scouts say, for one more year in single A. They were right; this was the year he ended his baseball career (for a ' 73 team built more with genuflection than genius). BUT in Winston on a white breath night he danced in rhythm with the Great Flashlight. Right arm working beyond its means, mowed em like a threshing machine. Fastball rose, curve dipped down, as a moth hits Raid then smacks the ground. Though sometimes kismet stinks it seems (paradise quite misshapen); It let Steve Hardin chase his dream, and one night made it happen. WILSON 3 6 0 WINSTON SALEM O O 1 Leave feedback on our message board. |