On the Occasion of an Outfielder’s Wedding
~My great-grandparents, Frances and Patrick (Cozy) Dolan married on August 24, 1902 between games at a double-header played by Chicago and Brooklyn.
Frances was all that mattered.
Her eyes clear as Lake Michigan,
set off against the white lace
dress and hat. She removed her calfskin glove,
with little tugs at the fingertips, exposing
her firm left hand. He palmed it
like a baseball, slipping on the slender gold ring.
The ump looked almost church official
without his pads and faceguard.
He’d finger combed his hair into place, dusted
his pant legs. Cozy’d done the same, knowing
when he first courted Frances, he’d caught
a long fly ball that was destined for the fence.
Now, on the pitcher’s mound, clouds
shifting across the sky, surrounded
by her family, his teammates, the opposing team
(who’d shown up badly in the first game)
and fans waving pennants,
he leaned in to kiss his bride.
The crowd cheered, tossed straw boaters,
as he escorted Frances back to the stands.
Ump strapped on his pads, catcher too.
Cozy picked up his glove, nearly skipped
to the outfield where he could just
make out his wife’s profile,
her graceful neck.