by Dr. Rajesh C. Oza
First come the pitchers and catchers,
Then the infielders and outfielders.
Ballplayers exchange gardening gear and evening wingtips
For oiled fielding gloves and sharpened metal cleats.
Reversing Dorothy’s migration in The Wizard of Oz,
They click their heels three times,
Leaving home for Spring Training’s cause.
They dream of America’s welcoming climes.
First come the Koreans and Venezuelans,
Then the Japanese and Puerto Ricans.
They’re stopped at patrolled borders,
Denied re-entry by thuggish hoarders.
But don’t you think politics spoils all the fun?
We’re all rooting for the home team in Arizona’s desert.
How about we just play ball in the Florida sun?
Baseball’s a balm for our divided country’s tragic hurt.
