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A Different World.

A Different World

   We had it easier, harder back then when it was simpler,
   more complicated, no steroids, no pitching machines,
   no weight training, no trips to the sawbones for a pissant
   concussion, no by God Gatoraid--hell, no water at practice,
   no cable TV, no distractions, Internet, multitasking,
   no rules against the crackback block or spearing, no
   cortisone shots, batting gloves, closers, bean counters.
   Never had a coach who really knew hitting, fielding,

   a coach who played croquet with my parents, attended
   my boring Methodist church, knew my grades, all my friends.
   Parents said play or not, your choice, and left me for dead
   in a frog rich ditch until 6 pm supper which I rose on time for
   every summercampless day and before steaming which
   I bowed my head in sincere, simulated thanks.

Reprinted from Aethlon Volume 26:1

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Title Annotation:Epilogue
Author:Smith, Ron
Publication:Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature
Article Type:Poem
Date:Mar 22, 2012
Previous Article:First Principles.
Next Article:Editor's note.

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