the last of the ninth

In the last of the ninth, he stumbles to the hill
Holding down the nerves; he’s choking back the thrill
He’s never been so admired
He’s never been so alone

He’s throwing out the last pitch on a summer to forget
He’s bringing back a season that hasn’t ended yet
He’s three outs from perfection
And one mistake from the expected

His accusers became his followers
After the seventh inning stretch
The world is bei ng introduced
To a man its never met
His friends have all abandoned him (he’s standing on the edge)
in the last of the ninth

He calmly takes his place where the meadow meets the sand
The leather feels like ice; its melting in his hand
And sixty feet
Feels more like a mile

He does his best to pretend that this frame
is just the third or the eighth again
But the multitude cheering his name
Makes it impossible to forget
That he stands on the edge
All alone on the edge
In the last of the ninth

It’s a chore to turn his eyes from the zeros
And more to keep his mind from the heroes of his youth
But there’s three outs to go
In the last of the ninth