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Over the Plate
by Grantland Rice
Bill Jones had the speed of a cannon ball;
He could loosen a brick from a three-foot wall;
When he shot one across it would hurtle by
Too swift for even the surest eye.
No one could hit him when he was right,
As no eye could follow the ball's swift flight.
Bill should have starred in a Big League role,
But he stuck to the minors; he lacked control.
Jack Smith had the curves of a loop-the-loop,
It would start for your head with a sudden swoop
And break to your knees with a zig-zag wave.
And the league's best hitters would roar and rave
At the jump it took and the sudden swerve.
Shades of a boomerang, what a curve!
But Jack's doomed to a Bush League fate;
He could not get it over the plate.
Tom Brown had both the speed and the curves,
A combination that jarred the nerves.
He would steam 'em by till they looked like peas.
They would take a break from your neck to you knees.
From the best to the worst in the league, by jing!
He had 'em all in the phantom swing.
But he missed the mark of a truly great,
Poor Tom, he couldn't locate the plate.
How is it with you, if I may ask,
Have you got control of your daily task?
Have you got control of your appetite,
Of your temper and tongue in the bitter fight?
Have you got control of your brawn and brain,
Or are you laboring all in vain?
It matters not what your daily role,
Have you got control, have you got control?
It matters not what you "may have" my friend,
When the story is told at the game's far end.
The greatest brawn and the greatest brain
The world has known may be yours in vain.
The one with control is the one who mounts,
And it's how you use what you've got that counts.
Have you got the beam, are you aiming straight?
How much of your effort goes over the plate? |
This poem was printed in Trench and Camp while Grantland Rice was a lieutenant in the 115th Field Artillery, Camp Sevier, S.C., World War I
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