Tonight in Carolina, the bleachers are empty and quiet Not a ball's been hit my way all night I hit a grounder up the middle, but the shortstop made the play I'll never make it to the big leagues this way But the smell of fresh cut gra** and peanut shells fill the southern sky And we'll be heading back to Birmingham tonight CHORUS; These towns roll by like tumbleweeds Through the windows of these late-night trains To those of us down here, it's still a game I may never be a hero, and you'll never know my name But if I broke the record, I would do it clean Last week out in Greenville, about an hour before the game A boy was watching warm-ups, with a big smile on his face He put down his popcorn, held out a ball and pen He looked a little awestruck, as I signed it for him I didn't ask for money, I just smiled and shook his hand You should've seen the spring in his step, as he ran to show his dad ` REPEAT CHORUS America's favorite pastime, it's simple and it's pure We all still watch the big leagues, but now we're not so sure But if you can catch a game in Birmingham, on a perfect summer day I'll run out every grounder, that's how I learned to play It's not glamorous in double A, it's not for everyone But baseball's what I do, who I am and what I love