Summer Co-ed Softcore Kickball at King School Park Sunday

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Ligaments today
The score was 22-3, with not much more to play
Tom arrived up at the plate while things were looking grim
No men on, and two men out, the advantage was not with them.

"I haven't kicked a good one yet" I think is what he said.
"If I can send it over the fences, maybe we're not yet dead."
He dug in his feet and waited for the pitch, it rolled across the plate;
The strike was called, but Tom just said "That's the type of pitch I hate."

The second pitch was slow and tight, a little bit outside,
But Tom lined up, and let it rip, and kicked that sucker high
It came down behind first base, sending chalk up in the air;
"Foul ball!" the baseman cried, but the umpire called it fair.

Tom sped to first, and ran for second, the outfield threw it in
But it went sailing past the cutoff man, and Tom began to grin
He saw the chance to try for third, on through second he ran
They wrangled up the kickball, the infield had a plan

Tom got to third and saw at once the ball had just been found;
He took off for home just as the ball arrived upon the mound
The pitcher lobbed it to home plate, and Tom began to slide
The catcher reared on back to throw, ready to crush Tom's pride

Feet first he slid, across the plate, throwing dust into the air;
The ball connected loudly bouncing into the sun's sharp glare
The call was quick, the Ligaments cheered, they had their favorite son;
When all the dust had settled, Tom had raised their score by one.