BUILDING BLUEPRINT

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Baseball Camp

We sat on the mud between grass and third base.
this was the time for ball it was the place.
Along came a man limping, six foot three and with a record as long as can be
Huge potbelly and southern accent, his leg was so bad his shoulders were bent
Chewed tobacco like no tomorrow
every word he spoke, a mound landed on the ground
Called us a bunch of ugly pencil necks
made us go through hell, made us go through heck
said his name was Creese and that he was here for two weeks.
teaching us to play ball or we were gonna get beat.
introduced us to his sons
and said we were buns at Americas pastime he said it ought to be a crime
whipped us into shape as we hit the home plate
made us run all day, made us run all night, till we couldn't put up a fight
Now this kid named roger his head steamed, and got hotter, tried to stand up to the creese er
in the end got kicked right in his keister.
landed on the ground with a thud, and just like his pitches, he was done.
Called his papa a lawyer, who talked to the camp owner, who fired Creese right into the gutter
Creese was crying, cursing, and yelling out loud. About the the boy who made the man turn into a dark cloud
I was getting baseball, until Creeses downfall.
and you need to believe in your head and heart for that is the sport.

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