“That’s one small step for [a] man. . .”
On July 21, 1969, under the light of the moon,
I looked to the sky in the shadow of Apollo’s men.
It was a balmy, childhood summer night.
Up above, NASA fielded three astronaut All-Stars:
Aldrin, Armstrong and Collins.
Two touched the lunar surface; one stayed back to pilot.
Just days later, in RFK Memorial Stadium,
The Cubs bettered NASA’s trio by a couple All-Stars:
Banks, Beckert, Hundley, Kessinger and Santo.
Two started between second and third, three on the bench.
Memory has crater-sized holes in my infield of dreams.
Around the horn were Cubbies I’ve immortalized in fiction:
Ernie watched Randy throw the ball to Ron,
Then to Glenn, onward to Don, and finally back to the pitcher.
Had all of Wrigley Field’s fan favorites
Made it to RFK via a Mayor-Daley-style stuffed ballot box,
Outfielders Billy and Jim would’ve joined the constellation,
And the NL manager would’ve started Fergie on the mound.
It was professional baseball’s centennial.
Players, coaches and managers selected July’s stars;
Richard Nixon and Bowie Kuhn leeched off their glory.
The following year, once again fans would vote for their heroes.
In 1970, I held a perforated MLB ballot up to the Chicago sky.
The punched-out holes looked like stars, all stars.
“. . .one giant [Santo-esque click-of-the-heels] leap for [Cubs]kind.”
Here’s the “starting lineup” of characters in Dr. Oza’s novel Double Play on the Red Line: Donna, Glenn, Billy, Ron, Ernie, Dr. Randi, Gentleman Jim, A. G. Donald, and Judge Ferguson. It will be published later this year by Third World Press.