The 3-1 Pitch

Sweat drips off his tired brow
he's dug himself a hole
and all the praying in the world
won't save this baseball soul.

The count is three balls and one strike
the batter's at the plate
he leads the league in home runs
surely, this is the pitchers fate.

The catcher gives the signal,
the pitcher shakes his head,
the infield starts to chatter,
this moment all pitchers dread.

He's takes some time to calm himself
goes to his happy place.
But all the good thoughts in the world
Can't wipe the smirk off the batter's face.

The catcher points two fingers down,
the pitcher gives the nod.
He straightens up, his arm swings 'round
but his curveball's slightly flawed.

The pitch hangs up in the strike zone,
And the batter makes him pay.
It's a rocket to straightaway center,
but will it go all the way?

The centerfielder's on his horse
running full tilt to the wall.
Legs pumping hard, lungs breathing quick
eyes focused on the ball.

The player reaches the warning track
the ball is coming down.
The pitcher crouches, face in glove
not looking from the mound.

The batter turns to watch the play
while rounding second base.
His eyebrows raised in awed surprise
The smirk's gone from his face.

The centerfielder's tongue sticks out, he jumps
his body is outstretched.
His right arm reaches o'er the fence,
but can he make the catch...