Article Contributed on: 4/25/2008 6:32:04 PM
My son Jacob is nine years old
And baseball is his love
He watches all the Rockies games
With his hat on and his glove
He knows the lineup from the start
And the positions that they play
He checks the schedule on the fridge
At the start of every day
He wears his purple proudly
When "his team" takes the field
He cheers the Rocks on loudly
When their lead begins to build
He won't wear socks upon his feet
When the Rockies play against Boston
He hopes to bring his team some luck
Even if his socks are just white cotton
He has hung his baseball pennants
On the walls up in his room
And doesn't like the night games
When his bedtime comes to soon
When he plays out in the yard
Reenacting games he's seen
He announces each and every move
Made by his favorite team
The few games he's attended
Made him smile ear to ear
Watching the big Jumbo Tron
And the venders selling beer
The seat he got to sit in
Was way up in the sky
To score a ticket in a suite
Would be a Rocky Mountain High
He would cheer just as loudly
As he did the time before
Each time the Rockies cross the plate
Adding one more to their score
Cracker Jacks would be his snack
During the seventh he would stretch
He'd watch the crowd between the plays
And the foul balls they would fetch
And when the game was over
And the day was done
He'd dream about the game he saw
With the tickets that he won
Those are the reasons for my son
Of why he likes his team
But as for me it is his face
That begins to beam
As he watches a wholesome game
With players you can respect
Whether it's from a special suite
Or from the upper deck