“Those ‘61 Tigers”
for Mary Ellen Miller
Don Mossi looked mean, but
Aguirre looked meaner, and
they called Frank Lary
“The Yankee Killer.” No wonder
my 12 year old nerves felt
inflamed when the Yanks
went into Detroit. I’d watch Al Kaline
stride to the plate, see Colavito
flex his muscles on deck,
know Norm Cash was next,
then worry that fancy blue “D”
on their shirts might stand for DEATH.
One night, Jim Bunning made Yankee
batters look like they were trying
to box an octopus so 621 miles away
in Woodbridge, NJ I prayed to St. Jude,
Patron of Lost Causes, to beg his celestial
assistance but those ferocious ’61 Tigers
could even outmatch a miracle.