He’s Way Out There

The batter’s up – First pitch is wild
Next one’s a strike, the pitcher smiled
It’s not just a game, they’re fighting to win
The last of the season, diggin’ deep within

Third pitch is thrown, right in the zone
And the slugger swings, the outfielder’s alone

He’s way out there… He’s way out there
Back to the wall on the warning track
The sky is black, there’s no time to stall
Has glove reaches up past the fence way out there
And he catches that would have been home run ball

Next player’s up – Ready for the pitch
Oh, but wait – He’s got an itch
Now he’s back in the box, a curveball’s thrown
And the batter’s hit right in the tailbone

Bases are loaded, it’s their chance
To win the series, batter’s in a trance

He’s way out there… He’s way out there
The pitcher’s upset, his arm’s shot
He’s on the spot, you can see him sweat
The catcher decides, then gives him the sign,
But he’s way out there so Coach makes a bet

Coach calls time and gives him the eye
He asks the southpaw, “Can you do this, kid?”
And the pitcher calmly says,
“My contact’s stuck in my eyelid.”

So Coach calls to the bullpen
The reliever is ready to come play
He’s been way out there this whole time
And he’s worth what the club pays
His beard and hair may be way out there
But he’s ready to astound and amaze

The reliever’s risen from way out there –
and three strikes later, hell of a save.


Lyric Notes: As soon as I heard “All Kinds of Time,” by Fountains of Wayne, I knew I wanted to write a lyric that would encompass some kind of feeling within a sports game. I chose baseball and thought of the SF Giants guy from a few years back, Brian Wilson, the crazy reliever who looked like a pirate.  Baseball has been on my mind since an old Watsonville High School friend, Tom Gugale, was killed in an auto accident over the weekend. This is in dedication to Tom and his legacy.

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