Walk-off

I liked it when the home run meant something,
when forty-five dingers might lead the league
in any given season, when a man
making the minimum wage could afford
to take his children out to see their idol
go yard, when the long ball was scarce and more
than a cheap way to sell tickets and appeal
to “chicks,” when the single-season record
was “tainted” only because of the bigotry
of popularity, when the home run king
was a thick-skinned hero who had to overcome
real bigotry even more than the shadow
of the greatest ever who had twice smacked more round-
trippers than every other team in his league.