I’ve had this poem, writer unknown, for 35 years! I thought maybe you might think it worthy of printing in our great paper.

“He stands at the plate with his heart pounding fast;

The bases are loaded; the die has been cast.

Mom and Dad cannot help him; he stands all alone.

A hit, at this moment, would send the teams home.

The ball nears the plate, he swings and he misses;

There’s a groan from the crowd, with some boos and some hisses.

A thoughtless voice cries, ‘Strike out the bum!’

Tears fill his eyes; the game’s no longer fun.

Remember, he’s just a little boy who stands all alone.

So open your heart and give him a break;

For it’s a moment like this a man you can make.

Keep this in mind when you hear someone forget.

He’s just a little boy and not a man yet.”

Sandi Robinson

Oak Harbor