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
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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