"He instinctively can find the shining greatness of our American culture and does a good job of highlighting it (although he also does have those rare lapses when he writes about hockey, but that is something caused by impurities in the Eastern waters or something)." Erik Keilholtz
Under the patronage of St. Tammany
Mark C. N. Sullivan is an editor at a Massachusetts university. He is married and the father of three children. Email
The newly named Poet Laureate of the United States, New Hampshire poet Donald Hall, is noted for his appreciation of the national game. "Baseball," he told Ken Burns, "because of its continuity over the space of America and the time of America, is a place where memory gathers." At NPR you can hear Hall interviewed the day after the Red Sox won the World Series, and reading from his poem "The Twelfth Inning":
In September the Red Sox lose games in the ninth. The season ends. Even if you win the Series, the season ends, O, and games dwindle to Florida’s Instructional League where outfielders without wheels learn to be catchers. From Florida north will truck oranges that Jennifer squeezes in the cold light of a low sun. I wear my yellow sweater; we eat scrambled eggs from blue and white dishes, her hair’s kerchief is yellow. We gather yellow days inning by inning with care to appear careless, thinking again how Carlton Fisk ended Game Six in the twelfth inning with a poke over the wall.
Reviewed alongside Hall at the Society for American Baseball Research is another book of baseball poetry, O Holy Cow! The Selected Verse of Phil Rizzuto, in which editors Tom Peyer & Hart Seely have set the Scooter's play-by-play to verse.
For Steve M's appreciation, here is a selection from the collection:
Fly ball right field It's gonna drop in. No it's not gonna drop in, Happy 46th wedding anniversary Thomas and Mary Anne Clearwater. That's it. The last three, six, nine, twelve Yankees Went down in order. So that's it. The game is over. #