1979 Winter World Series of Baseball

A chill so deep
Rattles through their bones,
When baseballs turn 
Into bars of soap,
And all the can do
Is to hope when the ball
Comes to them,
They don't slip slide
On the wet muddy natural,
Or wet soggy astroturf.
Or that they are able to dig the ball
Out of their frozen gloves.
Frozen bats shatter
Into ten thousand bits,
Leaving the batter's hands
In a million directions.
All they can hope 
Is that one bad will remain whole,
And they can hit the ball,
And win the game.
Or whey could wish
Their home parks
Were in the west, not east
For this wintery world series.
But wishing won't help them,
Neither does thermal underwear.
They can't play in wool coats
and warm mittens.
But why should the ultimate season goal
Of the American summer past time
Be played under such
Near impossible conditions?
Maybe the test
Between the top two teams, 
So evenly matched this year,
Could have been too easy
For one or the other
In summer's ideal conditions.
As it is,
It's tough for both
Just to stay warm, 
Just to protect themselves
From the elements,
Just to complete baseball's 
Ultimate challenge.
These men truly represent 
Baseball's best
In their duration
During the coldest
Certainly most unusual,
Winter world series.