Community Corner

'The Perfect Game: June 13, 2012'

A poem by Elizabeth Chapman

[Editor's note: The following is a poem by local poet and San Francisco Giants fan, Elizabeth Chapman, in honor of pitcher Matt Cain's perfect game one year ago. Chapman read her poem on Marty Lurie's KNBR broadcast on Saturday morning.]

The Perfect Game: June 13, 2012

by Elizabeth Chapman

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The radio crackled to ultra-life

somewhere in the seventh inning when

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Gregor Blanco caught an improbable drive

the ball rising as if of its own will

into his glove

and the radio talk-show hosts who’d been

preening all day from the foggy groves

of the Olympic Club for the US Open

grew mad with jealousy * Matt Cain

threw up his arms because he knew

that a twenty-seven-batter game was now

possible Radio I said and was not

sorry about the cable TV I never got

hearing Dave Flemming implore If you’re

just tuning in PLEASE DON’T LEAVE US

growing up a trolley-ride from Fenway Park

I’ve always loved baseball which

was not encouraged in my family they

barely registered the fact if at all

I did take a leave for a while

when some sluggers’ grand-slam

false perfection turned me off

Anyway what one-time long ball

could equal the growing power the slow

electricity that doubled and tripled when

you knew they were totally attuned

this very-high priced pitcher

and the catcher back from a fractured

season Posey who Cain said he never not once

in 125 pitches shook off and the umpire

it did get close a couple times with a 3-2 count

in the late innings impartial but if he had

a choice he chose early a generous strike zone

they’d have traded the divots and fancy irons

for one seat in the bleachers

overlooking the avocado tree on the sod farm

they shear to keep a space clear for home runs

the Astros never came close to

fourteen strikeouts tied with Sandy Koufax

for that record one stat on KNBR a station

choking on them no time for those commercials

I know by heart Dignity Health and Mattress

Discounters not even time for the Chilton Auto Body

hit of the game those callers

so smooth when it’s time for a change

think Speedy Oil Change

at home with the French doors swung open

I keep them closed in daytime due to

the infernal and ceaseless construction

the whole five years I’ve lived here

I jacked up the volume needed an Alka Seltzer

two discs fizzing up fizzing up

it had been an annoying day

in an annoying week lawyer broker taxes if

that were my whole world I wouldn’t mind

running out of money I’d kill myself anyway

though that might be a little hard on my heirs

the scent of hot rosemary still blew in

as our prevailing northwest wind picked up

hearing those voices the crowd

collectively losing its mind 42,000 people all

of them standing up inhaling and exhaling

with the guy in the white home uni of the Giants

not caring then about the home at-bats

they had ten runs for heaven’s sake just

wanting the dratted batting part to be done

quick so the man they call The Horse he gets it done

John Wayne could go back to the hill

6 outs then 3 outs to go top of the ninth

I loved listening it had been the usual

dreadful day on the world news

Syria and political

sanctimony till HE GOT ‘IM

then after teammates poured over the rail

and dumped a bucket of water on Cain

and the pretty wife the kiss the dugout interview

before posing with the groundskeepers

one at a time when Jon Miller asked

How did you keep your command the announcers knew

even at 100 pitches he still had plenty in the tank

Cain knew he did too

like the moment Secretariat won the Belmont in 1973

for the Triple Crown the pitcher spoke from his art

I have no idea


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