Saturday summers, when I was a kid
We'd run to the schoolyard and here's what we did:
Pick out the captains and choose up the teams,
Always a measure of my self esteem,
Cuz the strongest, the fastest, played shortstop and first.
The last ones they picked were the worst.
I never needed to ask, it was sealed:
I'd take my place in right field.
Playing right field: nothing to know.
You can be awkward. You can be slow.
So I'm here in right field,
Watching the dandelions grow.
Playing right field can be lonely and dull.
Little Leagues never have lefties who pull.
I'd dream of the day they would hit one my way.
They never did, but still I would pray
That I'd make a fantastic catch on the run
And not lose the ball in the sun...
Then I'd awake from this long reverie
And I'd pray that the ball never came out to me
There in...
Right field: nothing to know.
You can be awkward. You can be slow.
So I'm here in right field,
Watching the dandelions grow.
Sometimes I'd dream I was Matthews or Mays
Hitting the home runs and making the plays!
But they were so graceful, they were so fast,
They never batted last.
Off in the distance, the game's dragging on.
There's strikes on the batter, some runners are on.
I don't know the inning, and I've forgotten the score.
The whole team is yelling and I don't know what for.
Suddenly everyone's looking at me!
My mind has been wandering. What can it be?
They point to the sky, and I look up above...
And a baseball falls into my glove!
Playing right field is important, you know!
You gotta know how to catch! You gotta know how to throw!
That's why I'm here in right field!
... watching the dandelions grow.
| 
"Right Field" by Benjamin Hummel |