IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
Home
Table Of Contents
Authors
Acknowledgments & Links
 

AUTHORS


WORLD SERIES, 1968

Jim Daniels

My mother's friend Angie from work knew how much I liked baseball and gave me the ticket she got from Vic Wertz, the beer distributor for the wedding hall her mother ran. Angie gave me allergy shots every week-- she was beautiful in her white uniform. I went with her fiancé, who didn't know much about baseball. I was twelve, caught between sports and the sexual wake-up call. Art was his name, and as we sat in left field box seats, upper deck, I wished Angie were with me instead. I bought ginger ale and shivered. He drank beer and shivered. The Tigers lost 10-1. Lou Brock's stolen bases. Bob Gibson's strikeouts. The wind blasted our faces. He wanted to leave early but I wouldn't budge. I kept whispering The World Series, The World Series. . . but I was still cold.

 
 
Website Design and Hosting by Allied Computing