[Intro: trumpet call, vihuela strum] Third base side, row four, same spot since she was eight Foam pad under my coat and a scorecard I still update [Verse 1] They sold hot dogs for a dollar when she first took the field I clapped for every strikeout like the pennant had been sealed She wore number twelve and a braid her mother fixed And I yelled her name so loud the umpire got mixed The pad was blue then, thick as a good night of sleep Now it is flat and gray and it still knows how to keep My back from the metal and my heart from the noise Of fathers who only show when the scoreboard employs [Chorus: trumpets answer, grito] Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, I brought you every spring You held me through the errors and the late inning sting Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, stained with mustard and rain I never sold your seat and I never missed a game If pride had a cushion it would look like this one Folded in the trunk when the long day is done [Verse 2] Freshman year she bunted and the whole town stood up Sophomore she tore a nail and she still filled the cup Junior she struck out looking with runners on the corners I clapped anyway, soft, like a man who still adores her Senior night they gave her roses and she looked for me first I waved the pad above my head like a flag that never burst Other dads had fancy chairs and coolers full of ice I had a piece of foam and it always did me nice [Chorus: trumpets answer, grito] Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, I brought you every spring You held me through the errors and the late inning sting Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, stained with mustard and rain I never sold your seat and I never missed a game If pride had a cushion it would look like this one Folded in the trunk when the long day is done [Bridge: trumpet trade, half-time feel] Graduation morning on the porch before the sun There it was, the old pad, with a marker line that won Thanks for every inning, Dad, keep this where you sit I am gone to State but you are still my favorite hit [Verse 3] Now I take it to the park when the little league plays Sit behind the backstop on the hottest of days Some kid asks me mister, why you bring that old thing I say some thrones are quiet and they teach you how to sing [Final Chorus: full trumpets, group harmony] Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, I brought you every spring You held me through the errors and the late inning sting Bleacher pad, bleacher pad, stained with mustard and rain I never sold your seat and I never missed a game If pride had a cushion it would look like this one Folded in the trunk when the long day is done [Outro: trumpet fade, soft grito] Third base side, row four, empty now at dusk Foam pad in my hands and a heart that still trusts
0/500