I Always Knew When The Spring Had Come

In honor of Harry Kalas and a few days before the Spring Equinox, please enjoy a poem I wrote a year ago:

I always knew when the Spring had come

Could not wait to hear his voice

Now the airwaves are empty

And Wheels is my only choice

All I have are memories

Of a man I felt I knew

This spring won’t seem as sunny

The sky won’t be seem that blue

No more Summer nights

Of listening to his calls

“Number 500 for Michael Jack Schmidt!”

Or “Right down the middle for a ball.”

The Fall will seem a bit lonelier

Without Harry at the mic

But we will always have 80 and 08

When he called the last strike

I can still see him in the booth

With his heater and mug of beer

What I wouldn’t give

For just one more “It’s Outta Here!”