Editor's Note: This is the first of a series of poems we will be periodically posting by artist/poet James Humphrey (1939-2008). But first, a short introduction to Mr. Humphrey by his wife, Norma.(Image: Self Portrait by James Humphrey)
Born to play baseball? Not quite. You see, Jimmie was a Miss America runner-up's unwanted child. Born in 1939, Jimmie was a beautiful boy with striking dark brown eyes. But his life was filled with wallops and severe punishments that included constant reminders of “you are no good” and “you’ll never amount to anything”. Not to take the acclaim away from Johnny Mize, but Jim became the youngest professional to join the St. Louis Cardinals when he was 15. His playing was brief due to the spinal pain he felt; he was only with them for part of a season before the major league honchos sent him to Rochester, New York to finish his abbreviated baseball career. James Humphrey left a huge legacy of writing and abstract art along with his “baseball poems”. Many of these poems are from his books, Paying the Price, In Pursuit of Honor, and Naked: Poems Selected and New, 1969-2006, which were inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame Library at Cooperstown.
How I Learned About Baseball
by James Humphrey
How many millions of years
has it been coming
to be here just this once--
never returning.
Robert Creeley
6 to 15 delivered
early morning big-city dailies.
Folding them with older carriers
around rusted 50-gallon oil drum
we kept fire in, I listened closely
to their excited, knowledgeable,
often prejudice talk, about how
their favorite major leaguers
had done the day before.
Players like Ted Williams, Duke Snider,
Gil Hodges, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella,
Satchel Paige, Warren Spahn, Stan Musial,
Phil Rizzuto, Joe DiMaggio.
The carriers helped me read the sports section
so I wouldn't interrupt them with
all my questions.
The better I became at reading about
great player's daily performances,
and playing midget league ball
beginning when 8,
intuitively knew I would become
a great home run slugger and outfielder.
Felt unusual certainty flourish
everywhere in my being
At 61, it still does!
Didn't want to be the best player
of my generation for glory of self.
Playing ball was what I did best.
Gave it EVERYTHING I had!
With the money I was going to build
a ranch in Iowa for young survivors.
Yelled that to the heavens when a
back porch screen door slammed,
startling me, when 8.
God! How I wanted the children
to
have that ranch!
4A
Ballpark
Glittering ice palace
Single figure skater
Perfect infield ballet
Dreams of spring training
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