The outlook was uncertain for the Heroes squad that day:
The score was thirty-thirty with one inning left to play,
And when big Craig singled to left, and Ally did it too,
Two ducks were on the pond for Joe, whose work here wasn’t through.
Joe grabbed a bat that fit his grip, and rolled up to the plate;
His steely look of confidence foretold the pitcher’s fate;
He stared the hurler up and down, and held his bat up high,
The pitch came in, Joe took a swing, and hit a mighty fly.
The pitcher’s spirits plummeted as the ball disappeared;
It sailed right past a jetliner into the stratosphere,
Then into orbit, toward the moon, the ball went into space,
Outward bound, toward Jupiter, as Joe rolled to first base.
The crowd went nuts as Joe took second, then glided into third,
The ball flew right past Saturn’s rings (at least, that’s what I heard).
As Joe crossed home triumphantly (his wheels had touched them all),
A groan swept through the ballpark as the umpire cried, “foul ball!”