I sometimes cry when I'm on the road
Thinking 'bout my friends back home
How time has passed and we all have grown
I think of you when I'm on my own, all alone
Going to play baseball in a southern town
On a desolate field called the Burial Ground
It only takes one man to turn a team around
Swinging for the fence bringing heat on the mound
Hot sun
Deep South
Salt sweat
Dry mouth
Inside
Watch out
Throw three strikes and the batter is out
Spring training and we're ready to go
A minor league team playing more like pros
As we travel the attention grows
All around the nation always something and oh
Good news can't help but get around
The stands fill up when we come to town
It only takes one man to turn a team around
Swinging for the fence bringing heat on the mound
Hot sun
Deep South
Salt sweat
Dry mouth
Inside
Watch out
Throw three strikes and the batter is out
