This year it’s all the same,

I continue playing this beautiful game.

Green, green grass,

in my hand, the color of brass,

with the red, red sand;

Bordering their land.

It may not always be so exciting,

It may not always be so grand.

But yet this job I'm loving,

And yet I love our land.

A storm is coming,

I can hear the wind,

Stand my pose, to take it in.

Caught the storm, in my hand of brass,

Right here in our land of grass

A hero for a moment,

A moment of my fame,

And though the storm is over,

Another one will rain.

So I prepare myself,

For another hit.

A hit, that could be fatal,

Here comes the pitch...

man… all I ever wanted to do was play baseball…