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Make me Proud
Young Morrison was at the plate
The bat gripped in his hands
His Father, Tom, was in the park,
down in the left field Stands.
His Father has lung cancer
and cannot fly on planes.
So he came to Citifield
aboard an Amtrak train.
It was young Logan’s birthday
And he hoped for something great.
He got a pitch that he could square.
He hit it flush and straight.
Not high enough to clear the wall-
Still over Beltran’s head
He hustled as they tracked it down
and made third base instead.
How glad he was to get that hit.
His smile began to grow.
His dad was glad he’d lived to see
His boy called to “the show”
Later, at his birthday party
He gave his Dad a gift
It was exactly what he wanted-
the ball from his first hit.
Tom Logan has inoperable lung cancer. He traveled 29 hours to see his son, Logan Morrison of the Marlins, play Wednesday night at Citifield. The triple Logan Morrison hit that night was the first of his major league career.
poem
by
John F. McCullagh
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