This is my bat. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My bat is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My bat, without me, is useless. Without my bat, I am useless. I must swing my bat true. I must hit straighter than my opponent who is trying to beat me. I must get on base before he strikes me out…or gets me to hit a weak pop fly…or a slow ground ball…or some other useless at-bat. I WILL...
My bat and myself know that what counts in this game is not the beer we drink, the noise of our cheers, nor the high fives we make. We know that it is the runs that count. WE WILL SCORE...
My bat is human, even as I, because it is my life. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its shaft and its barrel. I will ever guard it against the ravages of weather and damage as I will ever guard my legs, my arms, my eyes and my heart against damage. I will keep my bat clean and ready. We will become part of each other. WE WILL...
Before God, I swear this creed. My bat and myself are the defenders of Smell the Glove. We are the masters of our opponents. WE ARE THE SAVIORS OF THE GAME.
So be it, until victory is The Glove’s and there are no more innings, but a win! …or if it rains, …which it never does in Portland.
