When I was five I was king of the yard, and my grandfather said
I had one hell of an arm. I remember learning his split-finger
Fastball, and all the tales he would stretch with that famous
Turner charm. And by the fire pit in my old backyard, I used to
Sit transfixed by his stories. About the time him and Mickey
Mantle drank all night long, spinning yarns of all their former glories.
And I remember Christmas eve when I was ten and Ma told Grandpa
He was wasting my time. She sent him packing in the pouring
Rain; things were never quite the same after that night. But in
The package he left under the tree was a new silver wristwatch
Addressed to his favorite grandson, Henry.
