Mr. October’s Nod By: Jim Gandolf

⚾️ Mr. October’s Nod ⚾️

      July 31, 1980

      Poem

      By: Jim Gandolf 

      ©️12072025

The green of Milwaukee County Stadium stretched wide,

A sea of blue and gold on every side.

My father, Brewers blue, sat near, resigned,

To watch his child root for the Pinstriped kind.

In enemy land, with passion I was fraught,

For Number 44, the star the Yankees brought.

He stood beside the cage, his warm-up slow,

While Brewers faithful let their rude words flow.

They yelled, they taunted, trying hard to sting,

The man of thunder, waiting for his swing.

My Yankee heart beat hard against the din,

I had to speak, to let my hero win.

I rose above the seats, my small voice clear,

Ignoring every hostile, mocking sneer.

“Don’t worry, Reggie! Smack a home run true,

And shut these fools right up!” I shouted, new

To courage found beneath the ballpark light,

A single champion challenging the night.

He heard the plea; he turned his famous face,

A nod, a helmet tilted into place.

“Okay,” his silence promised, deep and sure,

Then strode to meet the test he must endure.

The pitcher threw, the lumber met the ball,

A towering drive that answered every call.

It soared, it sailed, past fences, high and far,

A sudden silence under the evening star.

The crowd went quiet, swallowed by the sound

Of Yankee victory on hostile ground.

The winning run was scored; the game was won—

A legend’s promise kept for everyone,

But most of all, for me, who dared to speak,

And felt the power of the mighty streak.

A perfect moment, sealed in eighty’s haze,

The day that Reggie earned his fan’s loud praise.

Jim Gandolf 

Note: I was living in Port Washington, Wisconsin at the time. My Dad ended up with box seats two rows up right where the New York Yankees were bat practicing before the walk up to bat. My Dad hated the Yankees, but knew I was a major fan of Reggie Jackson #44 and this was a major gift to me from my Dad. I never forgot the look Reggie gave me before he hit a home run.  Priceless. I wrote this poem in High School at Port High. 

Jim Gandolf