Ending Era

I remember when the game was simple and plain
When the juicy hot dog would leave a ketchup stain
The webbed mesh hat I’d turn around on my head
And the black shoelaces decorating the ground where I tread
Each winner and loser on parade to the concession stand
An innocent smile with each order so carefully planned
Those summer days of dugout cheers
Mixed with youthful emotional tears
No steroids or drugs to enhance ourselves
Only batting helmets stocked neatly on shelves
Nothing to interfere or distract our love for the game
Because it mattered little how much money or fame
The soft red-stitched sphere bouncing effortlessly here
A wooden bat swung swiftly without any fear
The bases were clouds in a brunette sand sky
Loaded for all watching with engaged eye
The restless children playing the way it should be
A beautiful ballpark brimming with creativity