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Bottom of the eighth
Mud Hens, Five. Buffalo, One.
Bisons drop sixth straight?

Aww ... sorry, Walt!


Vote Mud Hen Will Rhymes
“Minors Moniker Madness”
Best name in the league!

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Marie Elena

BROTHERHOOD OF THE WHITE STITCHED BALL

They came as nine.
Perfect for this game.
Third base line seats tucked
behind the opposition dugout.
Every cheer and shout directed
at the pristine field. Five were brothers;
one by proxy. Three were cousins, close.
The ninth, a long time compatriot, a brother
of sorts; cohorts in this simple game. Hit. Catch.
Throw. Wouldn't you know it would be so simple?
"A sky so blue, it'd hurt your eyes to look at it!"
A strand of clouds lined the outfield. Contrasting,
completing; highlighted in pinkish tones. No bones about it.
Our father was punctuating a perfect day, in "the land of the free,
and the home of the brave". Play Ball!


Walt                                                            Photo by Aron Martinez (Coca-Cola Field Security Man)