Zach and the Particle Accelerator

Let us say his name is Zach.
He plays baseball with the Old Timers;
real baseball, but with brittle bones.

Eighty years ago, Zach was stronger
then he is now, and maybe faster, too.
Zach hefted the bat, leaning back
so as not to cause the earth to wobble.
"Come on, Zach!", the team called. "Get a hit!"

The infielders moved in to the grass.
The beehive outfield came in, too.
Rain could not have hit the ground
beneath the leather shield.

The pitcher reared back
but soon regained his balance.
The arc of the ball attested to
the growing persistence of gravity.

"Ugh!", Zach swung, and swung again!
"Strike two!", the umpire called, and
Zach waggled and earth wobbled.

"Come on, Zach!" his teammates called,
and the wall of gloves inched forward half a step.
Zach swung the bat, again,
when the pitcher heaved again.

There are small holes in the universe
where sub-atomic baseballs divide and reassemble,
where a ball is sometimes a particle
and else a wave slipped by;
there where Zach's ball lies now.

"Come on, Zach!", the crowd of three roared,
and Zach embarked toward first,
calculating improbability and God-particles.

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