My Cart 


Pony League
Ronald Lauderbach


The white chalked batter’s box beside home
plate is a place most young ball players love
to go. From there, they smack the horsehide
ball over infielders who pivot to watch hitters
run the bases, scoring runs their teams need
to win. But there is always one guy who just
can’t hit the ball. He approaches home base
as though it were a landmine, swings and misses
or lets the strikes whiz past. Teammates swear
and look down the bench to figure out when
they will bat next. In his last at-bat in the
last game of the season, the hitless batter
trembles in the box and with his eyes closed
swings the bat like he’s sweeping the sky and
taps a slow roller that dribbles toward the
pitcher’s mound then starts his half-run to
first base. The pitcher stoops to stop the
ball and throws to first base for the out. The
batter skulks back to the dugout, terrified by
the silence as his mother shoots out of her seat
and shouts, He HIT the ball. He hit the BALL!

© by Ronald Lauderbach.
Used with the author’s permission.



Ron Lauderbach says he writes poetry to celebrate life and because he likes to play with language. A retired high school English and journalism teacher (he also coached Pony League, for 12- and 13-year-olds), he tries to follow the advice he gave his students: “If you write poetry that moves you, it will move others.” Ron lives in San Diego, California.





Post New Comment:
Great ending to this wonderful baseball (and rite-of-passage) poem.
Posted 04/28/2020 10:29 PM
You may have watched and described Michael Escoubas play, but that was my mother you described yelling from the stands! Fun piece. Randy
Posted 04/25/2020 07:53 PM
Wonderful, Ron! So vivid!
Posted 04/25/2020 07:23 PM
I loved this, Ron. Sounds like it was something you really saw happen. Thanks for sharing. It's always so exciting to see your own work published.
Posted 04/25/2020 05:23 PM
Alarie Tennille:
Touching ending. I could identify. I played softball only because my neighborhood had few girls. Not playing would have meant being left out, and the games were played in my backyard. (I have an older brother.) What a thrill it was when I finally made first base!
Posted 04/25/2020 02:35 PM
Love it!!!
Posted 04/25/2020 09:37 AM
michael escoubas:
I'm pretty sure you watched me play, Ron!
Posted 04/25/2020 09:05 AM
Wilda Morris:
It is so much fun watching youngsters play ball! Thanks for the memories!
Posted 04/25/2020 08:31 AM

Contents of this web site and all original text and images therein are copyright © by Your Daily Poem. All rights reserved.
As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. Purchasing books through any poet's Amazon links helps to support Your Daily Poem.
The material on this site may not be copied, reproduced, downloaded, distributed, transmitted, stored, altered, adapted,
or otherwise used in any way without the express written permission of the owner.