The Sign

The place is empty now

Crowds could only stay for nine

Yet there he stands, cap in hand

Waiting for the sign

Too many curves to count

Days came and went so fast

The delivery is bittersweet

But our Tommy’s home at last

With a faithful pair of eyes

You can look just past the seams

And there he’ll be, ever watchful

In the field of our dreams

He waves us in, we fill the stands

So real it must be true

The melancholy turns to hope

When we see the Dodger blue

The lights shine on the diamond

The windup unfurls in a flash

The pine comes whipping forward

And sparks the perfect crash

The game is far from over

We love each moment of the ride

And there’s our grinning skipper

Forever at our side

-John Deike, Italian Sons and Daughters of America