Always heard about your knuckleball
The story goes you deceived them all
From backwood country planting someone's rows
The mill drafted you to keep the score low
I loved your tales though they were tall
God I wish I'd seen that knuckleball

Now the mill where you played and spent your days
In the past decade it went up in a blaze
The bleachers there, they've all come down
And weeds have overtaken the infield now
When most people pass they see nothing at all
I can see you there throwing knuckleballs

And on the board it's zeroes in the ninth
The silence you can cut it with a knife
You kick your leg and go into your wind
The catcher's mitt snaps and the umpire hollers strike

When I was young at your house I'd stay
I took my guitar and you showed me to play
Hank William's song Cold, Cold Heart
And you'd blow that melody on your harp
I saw your team picture hanging on the wall
God, I wish I'd seen that knuckleball