On a sun drenched Saturday in 1989

I saw a bloodied, unbowed baseball shrine.

Portsmouth's Lawrence Stadium, monument to WPA

and the confluence of streets uniquely intersecting ;

a park with the personality of an Ansel Adams character study.

Forgotten since '69's Tidewater Mets swansong,

the curved stands beckoned as an old friend

to determine where home plate used to be,

look at overgrown basepaths,

barely recognizable pitcher's mound,

and marvel at Piedmont League ghosts.

In '37 Phil Rizzuto digs out a short hop,

tosses slowly enough to give the Norfolk pitcher palpitations;

barely gets the runner at first.

'Old Double X' manages here in '44,

pitches in 3 games, pinch hits twice,

is released -he hardly controls himself once.

A '48 Portsmouth Cub goes down swinging,

lets Norfolk off the ropes with men on base;

Tars pitcher Whitey Ford sees the value of a full count curve.

York's Brooks Robinson snags one in '55 over the bag

turns catlike, shifts his feet, guns out the runner,

making George Staller glad he suggested shifting Brooksie to third.

Finally time for my center field booth broadcast of a high school football game

on undulating field with lines limed by a groundskeeper who must have

been dodging the vermin he saw during a terrible hangover.

With bat and rat colonies behind and under the baseball stands,

everything fit perfectly.

Copyright ©2002 Daniel Grey Taylor