My heroes rubber- banded bound

I collect these cards, wrapped in gum,
my heroes wrapped in rubber bands, everyone.
With caps and stripes, gloves and smiles,
I stare and admire for a while.

There all in a shoe box, rubber bands marks the spot,
of certain teams that mean a lot.
I memorize the numbers on the back,
like legends on a map that state the facts.
Like base on balls, hits and runs,
important things and stuff that’s fun.

And when I’m getting a new one, it smells of sweet pink gum,
all dusted with white powder, and I anticipate the fun.

Now you might think it’s easy to file a card,
but to file it right can be very hard.
Now should he be with his team like all the others are,
or should he be filed with the guys that hit the ball so far.

Now I have a system that’s detailed, almost to a fault,
but then – that’s what baseball is all about.

On my front step I unwind those rubber bands that hold,
all my heroes , young and old.
My baseball cards get scattered on each and every step,
as the wind sometimes flips them over, and mixes up each set.

All of this was years ago,
as time and space passed me slow.
And although the pink flat gum and powder white,
no long hold their place in light,

My heroes remain so young and proud,
on a small square card in a shoebox,
my heroes rubber-banded bound.

Coach B.

Coach…that brought back some wonderful memories. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the gum. Do you remember putting the duplicates in the spokes of your bicycle?

I’m too young to do the rubber bands, I always had them in an old shoe box or binders.

Great passage though Coach B

Do I ever…

I had a bike that was made up of two different bikes. The back part was from
an old Columbia frame with a big imitation tank behind the handle bars. The tank
had a button for a bell, but it was rusted solid. The back tire was a balloon tire
that I had to put two hot-patches on. The frontend was from an English Racer.
I remember at the time, the cool bikes had the handle bars turned upside down.
If you had to turn suddenly around a corner, the handle bars would clock you
right in the cojones. Many a kid in my neighborhood never sang bass in the
church choir for years because of those handle bars.

Any way, I use to take the clothespins out of my mother’s clothespin bag to
fasten the cards on my bike. I’d fasten them on the fender supports.
BBBBLLLLLDERRRRRRRR ------ down the street we’d go.

When I was I the service, my mother was doing some house cleaning and
found that shoebox and tossed out all my cards. $$$$$$$$$$ out the window.