Ode on a Ken Phelps Starting Lineup Action Figure by Patrick Dubuque December 10, 2012 Thou still unravished pride of quietness, Thou child of spectacle and facial hair, Malign’d first baseman, how can time express Thy legacy, left in such sad repair What die-cast legend haunts about thy shape Immortalized in resin, and in time? In some invis’ble Kingdome standeth thee? For semi-anonymity, what crime Committed thee? By how didst thou escape The cavalcade of baseball revelry? Dost thy biceps strain in some endless protest For the final pitch that never seems to come Or do they hold in some intemporal rest, Your stance a delicate chrysanthemum? For standing still was where thou best excelled Though standing was, by then, a coward’s game Did thou make’st modesty thy sleek disguise? Or seek longevity rather than fame? Did, rather than thy identity withheld Thou stand and watch the game proselytize? Remembered only in thy only home The ogre who struck young Brian Holman down And in one moment, doomed thyself to roam A transient soul, a memory in towns Like Omaha, and frigid Montreal. When old age shall this generation waste Thou shalt remain, in midst of baseball’s woe A patient demigod, to whom they’ll say’st: Beauty is Phelps, Phelps beauty – that is all Ye know of baseball; all ye need to know.