MaroonBoy
26 Aug 2003, 15:02
I just posted this on the Fitzroy board and figure old Bloodsmen might like to read it too.
I'm reading an oral history on the Brooklyn Dodgers called Bums, written in 1984 by Peter Golenbock. A great read, and I'm not someone who knows much about baseball. For those who may be unawares, the Dodgers were killed off in Brooklyn in 1957 and sent to LA. Old fans still hurt. This poem is in the book. Figure there's a few Bloods who'll identify with its sentiments.
The Park With Nobody In It
By Bob Cooke
Whenever I go to Flatbush, on the subway BMT
I pass by a poor old ball park, where the turnstiles rust by degree.
I know I’ve passed it a hundred times but I always stop for a minute.
And look at the park, the tragic park, the park with nobody in it.
And this park on the way to Flatbush needs thirty thousand pairs of eyes
And somebody ought to cheer it up, by coming out there under the skies
It needs new life and laughter and the seats should be occupied
‘Cause what it needs the most of all are some people sitting inside.
Now if I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade
I’d buy the park and fill it up the way it used to be
With fellows like Snider and Hodges and a great guy named Pee Wee.
They say the park isn’t haunted, but I hear there are such things
That hold the talk of Dodgers, their mirth and sorrowings,
I know this park isn’t haunted but I wish it were I do
‘Cause it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
A park that has done what a park should do, a park that has sheltered life
That has put its lovely concrete arms around a Dodger fan and his wife
A park that has echoed a baseball song, held up a rookie’s stumbling feet
Is the saddest sight when it’s left alone that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Flatbush with the help of the BMT
I never walk by the empty park without pausing in hopes I won’t see
A park standing there, empty and barren, with some seats falling apart
‘Cause I can’t help thinking the poor old park is a park with a broken heart.
I'm reading an oral history on the Brooklyn Dodgers called Bums, written in 1984 by Peter Golenbock. A great read, and I'm not someone who knows much about baseball. For those who may be unawares, the Dodgers were killed off in Brooklyn in 1957 and sent to LA. Old fans still hurt. This poem is in the book. Figure there's a few Bloods who'll identify with its sentiments.
The Park With Nobody In It
By Bob Cooke
Whenever I go to Flatbush, on the subway BMT
I pass by a poor old ball park, where the turnstiles rust by degree.
I know I’ve passed it a hundred times but I always stop for a minute.
And look at the park, the tragic park, the park with nobody in it.
And this park on the way to Flatbush needs thirty thousand pairs of eyes
And somebody ought to cheer it up, by coming out there under the skies
It needs new life and laughter and the seats should be occupied
‘Cause what it needs the most of all are some people sitting inside.
Now if I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade
I’d buy the park and fill it up the way it used to be
With fellows like Snider and Hodges and a great guy named Pee Wee.
They say the park isn’t haunted, but I hear there are such things
That hold the talk of Dodgers, their mirth and sorrowings,
I know this park isn’t haunted but I wish it were I do
‘Cause it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
A park that has done what a park should do, a park that has sheltered life
That has put its lovely concrete arms around a Dodger fan and his wife
A park that has echoed a baseball song, held up a rookie’s stumbling feet
Is the saddest sight when it’s left alone that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Flatbush with the help of the BMT
I never walk by the empty park without pausing in hopes I won’t see
A park standing there, empty and barren, with some seats falling apart
‘Cause I can’t help thinking the poor old park is a park with a broken heart.