Once Bridegrooms

Once bridegrooms now middle-aged bums,
they dug their roots from the deep burrow
and headed west to find a new bride,
younger and blonde.

When we first met, I was in grade school.
They had broken my dad's heart
twenty years earlier.
I liked the Yankees and, so,
hated the Red Sox.

But these guys were different:
contempt not from the familiarity
of a six-month war of attrition.
Aliens from another world
where you could make a right on red.
Who were these guys?
Garvey, Cey, Lopes.
No Brett, Carew or Rice, surely.
And no Koufax or Drysdale, either.

Ford told us to drop dead
and Sam's son tried to make good on it.
California was the future
but Reggie had the mantle of the past
until Fernando heard the drums.

The old bridegrooms again middle-aged.
Settled in LA, they've even lured
Joe out to join them.
We see them in the summer now sometimes,
but it has been nearly 30 years
since they've come over
(or invited us over)
for the High Holy Days.
Maybe in the new place?