thousands stand
yelling as one
shouting about
a man trying to
hit a ball
over a wall
while I sit
soaking it all
in not feeling
connected to the
emotional surge,
missing the wave
as it passes me by
-
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the sieve and the sand 
i love “missing the wave as it passes me by”
it seems like you’re really missing out on something… but then… its just the wave
yes, and it is doubtful whether the wave would be rewarding enough to warrant the energy consumption of standing with arms raised, much less uttering the accompanying wooooo!
Baseball is a wonderful game in which to philosophize. I suppose you’ve read Shoeless Joe. By W.P. Kinsella. He wrote many stories about baseball. Apparently he has retired from writing recently. I have written some poems about hockey but always they are more reflective rather than in the flow of the game. Only baseball by its very nature (time is irrelevant) allows one this space in which to write.