My friend and I once coached Little League;
That was over a quarter century ago.
Now we meet at Ada’s Café for tea and cocoa.
Sometimes, when our creaky knees let us,
We bicycle past the old field to the café.
And then we talk—talk across all the bases.
Our boys are grown men now,
Leading lives of consequence, of consequences,
No longer pitching or catching.
My old friend shows me a fading photo from Wrigley Field:
Dodger great Maury Wills is in the middle—as if at second base—
Long arms around him and his kid brother—as if at third and first.
Remembering legendary Cubs announcer Jack Brickhouse,
He and I discuss the metaphysics of base hits.
I wonder, “Is a single better or a homer?”
He says, “A home run is spectacular.”
I frown. “I suppose chicks dig the long ball.”
He notices my reluctance to agree.
I ask, “Doesn’t clearing the bases end all the fun?”
He looks puzzled. “You like singles and doubles?”
I cheer up. “A single keeps the line-up moving.”
He likes that. “Singles and doubles. Keep the line moving.”
I add, “Imagine Maury at first, ready to steal second.”
He looks at my ancient two-wheeler. “Keep the line moving.”
Dr. Oza fictionalized Jack Brickhouse in his debut novel, Double Play on the Red Line.