Coach's Wife
Dedicated to my husband Scott and my son Nathaniel and all the patient moms and wives who show up.

©Linda Allen 2007

I am the coach's wife, it's not
The life I would have chosen
But here I am at 42 degrees
Sitting in the bleachers, leanin' on my knees
Hopin' my boy gets a hit, oh, please
Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please

Little did I know when I married my husband
Underneath the poet and the peaceful warrior
Lurked the heart of a super-sized jock
Who rocked our baby to baseball talk
Presented him a bat before he could walk

I like to hike and maybe some biking
Theater and concerts, poetry dates
But fate just laughed and gave me him
With his trickster eyes and Saturday grin
And it's off to the ball park once again

Hum, batter, batter, Hum, batter, batter
Give it a ride, give it a ride
Find a gap, sit back and drive it
Slide, slide, slide

I'm in love with my boys of summer
My boys of spring and fall and winter
Oh, my God, it's a suicide squeeze
My boy's in the middle, it's 42 degrees
The coach, his dad, is on his knees
Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please