1979 Winter World Series of Baseball

A chill so deep Rattles through their bones, When baseballs turn Into bars of soap, And all the can do Is to hope when the ball Comes to them, They don't slip slide On the wet muddy natural, Or wet soggy astroturf. Or that they are able to dig the ball Out of their frozen gloves. Frozen bats shatter Into ten thousand bits, Leaving the batter's hands In a million directions. All they can hope Is that one bad will remain whole, And they can hit the ball, And win the game. Or whey could wish Their home parks Were in the west, not east For this wintery world series. But wishing won't help them, Neither does thermal underwear. They can't play in wool coats and warm mittens. But why should the ultimate season goal Of the American summer past time Be played under such Near impossible conditions? Maybe the test Between the top two teams, So evenly matched this year, Could have been too easy For one or the other In summer's ideal conditions. As it is, It's tough for both Just to stay warm, Just to protect themselves From the elements, Just to complete baseball's Ultimate challenge. These men truly represent Baseball's best In their duration During the coldest Certainly most unusual, Winter world series.