They Still Play Baseball the Old Way

Posted on June 13, 2016


They Still Play Baseball the Old Way 

My intention when I began writing the poems in They Still Play Baseball the Old Way” section of a Perfect Throw was to present the Mexico I know and live in through portraits of the members of a ragtag semi-pro baseball team. The Mexico I know is not tourist-centered beaches and archeological tour sites. It is a studio apartment on a deadend corridor called Astronomos in a workingclass Mexico City barrio. It is dusty unpaved streets leading to the ballpark in Tamuín where my neighbor Edmundo umpired town team games. It is the wonderful little waterfalls in the highlands of Chiapas where campesinos brought their goats to drink. It is Gregor, the plumber, who could fix anything, including marital disputes. It is Angel who, despite his name, was an intrepid scamp with a heart as big as his ego. It is La Abuelita on her knees praying to the Virgin that her kidnapped granddaughter be returned. It is poverty and pain and delight  and the energy to cope with life’s improbable consequences. And it is baseball, played with passion if not always with skill. But with a joy akin to love.

A Perfect Throw, Aldrich Press