Archive for the ‘Sports’ Category
Wednesday, December 7th, 2011
After too many years, and one year too late, Ron Santo is in the Baseball Hall of Fame. He died just over one year ago, and so he did not know during his lifetime that he had finally received major league baseball’s highest honor: to be elected and enshrined in the Hall of Fame. I hope he knows now! But more than baseball, he was an advocate for the children who suffer from the disease that he suffered from most of his life. He had Juvenile Diabetes, and during his career, few knew that he had to test his blood and give himself insulin multiple times a day in order to save his life and health. He committed his life to helping children who suffered from this disease, helping the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation to raise over $ 60 million to support research to find a cure for it, and to help the children, all while undergoing two leg amputations and multiple other health issues. I am re-running this poem in honor of his Hall of Fame election. It is called “For Every Kid.” And thank you, Ron Santo, a true Hall of Famer!
For Every Kid
You played the nation’s greatest game
with talent and with fire,
reaching deep within yourself
yet always reaching so much higher.
It is a game learned by boys,
yet also played by men.
You played the game so you’d inspire
everyone to have some fun–
so men would play like boys again.
There was a joy to making catch
that others might not make,
or to drive the runner home
when victory was at stake.
Every game was a test
of stamina and will.
You always gave your very best:
you played with passion;
you played with skill;
stars may dim but never rest.
And when the games were over
and the crowds were getting thin,
you gave yourself to different cause,
more determined now than ever
to fight the fight and to win.
You saw the children suffer
from the burdens that you knew.
You gave your all the only way
that you knew how to do:
have a passion; set a goal;
make a plan; then pursue.
You knew their hurt; you knew their pain;
you knew the fear in each one’s brain.
You showed them courage;
you gave them hope.
You taught them how to live and cope;
you showed them that there was no shame.
You gave yourself; you gave your name:
you kept the kids in the game.
So thank you, Mr. Santo,
for everything you did:
for the game; for the Cubs;
and most of all–above it all–
for the love you showed for every kid.
You fought the fight every day
and still you played the game.
the Biggest Leagues have called you up:
You’re a star in every sense–
you’re in Heaven’s Hall of Fame.
Congratulations to Ron Santo! All good things to his family!
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2009-20012. All Rights Reserved.
Tags: "Hall of Fame", "poems of inspiration", "Ron Santo", "the power of words", baseball, chicago cubs, child, heirlooms, Juvenile Diabetes, love, memorial poetry, passion, picture poems, poetry
Posted in Family-Children, Health, Love and Family, Memorial Picture Poem, Sports | No Comments »
Thursday, August 11th, 2011
For Every Kid: Ron Santo has helped so many children who suffer from juvenile diabetes. The Chicago Cubs unveiled a beautiful statue of Mr. Santo last night.
Here is part II, and the conclusion, of this poem.
You saw the children suffer
from the burdens that you knew.
You gave your all the only way
that you knew how to do:
have a passion; set a goal;
make a plan; then pursue.
You knew their hurt; you knew their pain;
you knew the fear in each one’s brain.
You showed them courage;
you gave them hope.
You taught them how to live and cope;
you showed them that there was no shame.
You gave yourself; you gave your name:
you kept the kids in the game.
So thank you, Mr. Santo,
for everything you did:
for the game; for the Cubs;
and most of all – above it all –
for the love you showed for every kid.
You fought the fight every day
and still you played the game.
The Biggest Leagues have called you up:
you’re a star in every sense –
You’re in Heaven’s Hall of Fame.
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Tags: "daniel mark picture poems", "Hall of Fame", "Ron Santo", "the power of words", baseball, chicago cubs, gift, gifts, heirlooms, inspiration, JDRF, Juvenile Diabetes, legacies, memorial poem for family member, passion, picture poems, poem, poetry, poetry to honor deceased person
Posted in Health, Love and Family, Memorial Picture Poem, Sports | No Comments »
Tuesday, August 9th, 2011
This poem was first printed last winter as a tribute to Ron Santo. Today, Wednesday, the Chicago Cubs will be unveiling a statue of Mr. Santo in Wrigley Field. Whether you agree or disagree that he belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame, he had extraordinary careers as a player and as a broadcaster and as a businessman. And he accomplished all of this while having to check his blood sugar multiple times every day and to take his medications. Ultimately, he lost both of his lower legs to diabetes, had countless surgeries, and yet still made it to the ballpark almost every game to announce the games on WGN radio. Most important, he gave countless hours to help children afflicted with juvenile diabetes, by working the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, and especially by direct interaction with the children. He was a Hall of Famer for them! Part II will go up on Thursday.
For Every Kid Part I of II
You played the nation’s greatest game
with talent and with fire,
reaching deep within yourself
yet always reaching so much higher.
It is a game learned by boys
yet also played by men.
You played so hard so you’d inspire
everyone to have some fun –
so men would play like boys again.
There was a joy to making catch
that others might not make,
or to drive the runner home
when victory was at stake.
Every game was a test;
of stamina and will.
You always gave your very best:
you played with passion;
you played with skill;
stars may dim but never rest.
And when the games were over
and the crowds were getting thin,
you gave yourself to different cause,
more determined now than ever
to fight the fight and to win.
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Tags: "daniel mark picture poems", "Hall of Fame", "poems of inspiration", "Ron Santo", "the power of words", baseball, baseball player, courage, gift, gifts, heirlooms, inspiration, JDRF, Juvenile Diabetes, legacies, memorial poem for family member, memorial poetry, passion, picture poems, poem, poems, poetry, poetry for wake, poetry to honor deceased person, skill
Posted in Health, Love and Family, Memorial Picture Poem, Sports | No Comments »
Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011
Marathon Part IV (the last stanza)

"I conquered my own self today: I am a part of history."
I am not a soldier
but now my fight is done.
I trained myself and fought myself;
my battle has been won.
I raise my arms up to the sky,
proud of my own victory.
I conquered my own self today:
I am a part of history.
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2009-2011. All rights reserved.
Tags: "daniel mark picture poems", Christmas gifts for runners., gift, gifts, heirlooms, inspiration, inspirational gifts, legacies, Marathon, marathon gifts, marathon runner, Marathon runners, picture poems, poem, poems, poetry
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Monday, July 25th, 2011
Marathon. Part II:
Do you know a marathoner? They often have a 26.2 on the back of their cars. This is for them! Or you!
You, or your favorite runner, will love this piece. The other day, I posted “Runner’s Blessing.”
Today, I am posting “Marathon.” This is one of my earliest, and still, one of my favorite, poems. Picture yourself, or your favorite runner’s picture, surrounded by this heirloom. Make your experience more memborable than ever before!
A great gift for the runner. You will enjoy giving this as much as they enjoy getting it! Or you will like your own picture in it!
And it will inspire them, and you, to keep going!

"I conquered my own self today: I am a part of history."
Marathon
I have trained my legs
to know their proper place,
to seek their outer limits,
to find controlled pace.
I have trained my mind
to focus on the road,
to stay the course and block the pain:
a rhythmic, tranquil code.
I have trained my heart
to beat with strength and pride,
to drive my body forward
on such an ancient ride.
I will put up the rest in the next couple of days. Watch for it, or go to our Store, under Sports, then Running.
(Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2009-2011. All rights reserved.)
Tags: "daniel mark picture poems", 26.2, anniversary gift, fitness, gift, gift for runners, gifts, Health, heirlooms, inspiration, Marathon, marathon gifts, marathon runner, Marathon runners, marathoners, picture poems, poetry, presents for runners, road, runners, running, running gift, running gifts
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Monday, February 21st, 2011
On the sad news of Dave Duerson’s death.
Depression Attrition: One of the fittest does not survive.
It was recently reported that Dave Duerson, former All Pro defensive back on the Chicago Bears, All-American Football player at Notre Dame University, and by all accounts, an intelligent and kind and physically fit man, died, apparently by his own hand. Shortly before he died, he sent text messages to his family asking that his brain be examined for chronic traumatic encephalopathy, a degenerative brain disease linked to depression, dementia and suicide. The poem below, entitled “Battle,” was written prior to Mr. Duerson’s death. Whether it describes his mental state I cannot say. But depression and mental illness touch so many people and their families, and now, with government programs being cut or unfunded, and insurance companies refusing to cover people with mental illnesses or attempting to avoid covering treatment, those who feel little to no sense of hope are even more likely to feel hopeless. Shall we just toss them aside and force them to suffer alone, without treatment or hope? What of their children? What of their families? Have we lost our hearts? Have we lost any sense of compassion? Isn’t that a sad commentary on our society? On our political values? Survival of the fittest indeed. At times, everyone feels frustrated, unhappy or even angry, and sometimes even hopeless. For those who are truly and clinically depressed, those feelings are magnified many times. Most can be treated, but few have the resources to obtain treatment without insurance or government assistance. Should we abandon them, or hope that their families can help them? Sometimes those families don’t have the knowledge or the resources to help. What then? Is the concept of “survival of the fittest” intended to somehow allow us to discard those who suffer? Does that concept make the rest of us feel better? If so, how frightening is that? Our enlightened, compassionate world is losing its light and its compassion.
I tried to imagine what it must be like for those who suffer from depression. Here is “Battle.”
Battle
The pounding of my heart echoes in my ears—
crashing reverberations
that thump without remorse—
rhythmic, seismic, chronic—
unsyncopated renderings of the
throbbings in my head
that in their turn do not rest—
a drumming rogue uncontrolled
but now controlling me.
When the battle is within you
and it finally settles down,
you know it is but momentary
but that will have to do.
It is water on a too-hot fire
that can only quell the flame,
but the heat will yet repeat itself
and you can only wait.
There is no peace for very long
for you know that in the end,
there is nothing you can do
and nowhere you can run:
the shadows in your mind
are made longer by the sun,
and the hours without thunder
grow shorter every day:
the lightning and the thunder
will always have their way.
Your darting eyes seek escape
but you’re condemned to stay,
for every path leads nowhere
and every road is blocked.
The battle lines are always drawn;
the doors are closed and locked.
My voice screams out in silent plea—
garbled words, slurring speech—
impotent against the tide
of ceaseless echoes deep inside
a mind once sharp and curious
but now no longer so—
a prisoner of ineptitude—
traveling freely everywhere
with nowhere left to go;
and there is no way to get there,
and there is no way home.
I’d settle for a stalemate
in this war that rages on—
the winner by attrition
is just the first to die.
Frozen in my tracks
by the lightning in my head
and the thunder in my chest,
I am anchored in the quicksand
that holds me in arrest.
Where now is my bed?
Where shall I find rest?
Where now can I go
so I won’t hear them anymore?
–
I am the shackled prisoner
in a life I do not own,
an invited but unwanted guest
at the party I have thrown.
I simply seek a moment’s truce
through eternal rest,
but once again I hear the sound
of pounding in my chest—
ominous and frightening,
a distant, rumbling drum;
soon I’ll see the lightning
and the battle then will come.
Silently I pray for help
so I can yet go home:
I listen for an answer,
knowing there is none.
Daniel Mark Extrom
January 2011
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom 2011.
All rights reserved.
Tags: "Dave Duerson", "mental illness", "survival of the fittest", "the power of words", compassion, depression, enlightenment
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Wednesday, December 8th, 2010

- A hero to so many kids who suffer from Juvenile Diabetes, as he did.
The following poem was written recently in honor of Ron Santo, who gave so much for so many!
For Every Kid: A Tribute to Ron Santo
You played the nation’s greatest game
with talent and with fire,
reaching deep within yourself
yet always reaching so much higher.
It is a game learned by boys,
yet also played by men.
You played the game so you’d inspire
everyone to have some fun -
so men would play like boys again.
There was a joy to making catch
that others might not make,
or to drive the runner home
when victory was at stake.
Every game was a test
of stamina and will.
You always gave your very best:
you played with passion;
you played with skill.
Stars may dim but never rest.
And when the games were over
and the crowds were getting thin,
you gave yourself to different cause,
more determined now than ever
to fight the fight and to win.
You saw the children suffer
from the burdens that you knew.
You gave your all the only way
that you knew how to do:
have a passion; set a goal;
make a plan; then pursue.
You knew their hurt; you knew their pain;
you knew the fear in each one’s brain.
You showed them courage;
you gave them hope.
You taught them how to live and cope.
You showed them that there was no shame.
You gave yourself; you gave your name:
you kept the kids in the game.
So thank you, Mr. Santo,
for everything you did;
for the game; for the Cubs;
and most of all - above it all –
for the love you showed for every kid.
You fought the fight every day
and still you played the game.
The Biggest Leagues have called you up;
you’re a star in every sense:
You’re in Heaven’s Hall of Fame.
Copyright Daniel Mark Extrom, 2010. All rights reserved. Rest in peace, Mr. Santo. A life well-lived.
Condolences to Mr. Santo’s family.
Tags: "daniel mark picture poems", "Hall of Fame", "Holiday Sale"; "Special holiday prices", "Picture Poems Holiday Prices", "Ron Santo", baseball, chicago cubs, heroes, JDRF, Juvenile Diabetes, picture poems, poem, poetry
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Monday, August 23rd, 2010
I am showing two
picture poems today.
The first one is called “A Blessing for the Golfer.” We will talk about that one below. The second one is about puppies and dogs. I will talk about that one first. Everyone loves a puppy or a dog who used to be a puppy. They bring love and joy into a home in a way that few things can. At the right, below, you will see a silly poem with a picture of our 5 year old puppy, and though she needs a haircut, she remains very cute! This is a wonderful gift for a child with a puppy, or for anyone! You can find it in our Store, under Dog Memoirs. Put your puppy’s photo in the opening. It’s a terrific way to celebrate your puppy or dog, and to commemorate how important he or she is in your life. The last stanza reads: “My puppy loves to play and run / and then she rests when she’s all done. / Could any puppy be more fun? / There simply is no better one!” If you have lost a dog, we have another commemorative piece entitled “Farewell, My Friend, Farewell” which honors your best friend. This is in the Store also.
The second is entitled “A Blessing for the Golfer”, shown above. This celebrates the game of golf in a unique way, and makes a wonderful gift for any golfer. It is shown in black matte, 8 inches by 10 inches, with room for a 3.5 x 5 inch photo of your favorite golfer. “May traditions of this ancient game / always stay with you. / May you always play with pride and class / and to this game be true.” This is the last stanza, and pretty much says it all. A gift any golfer would be proud to display in a family room or office. It could be given as a prize at golf outings or tournaments too! It comes in other colors too, and also in landscape format (10 by 8 inches). See our Store under Sports Poems.
Today’s poem is too long to include in its entirety. It is entitled “Life Should Be Like Golf (Where’s There’s Sand There’s Fire).” I am not very good at golf; in fact, I would say I am quite bad! And most people I have played with would agree! But I love the game, and I admire those who play it well. The PGA held its tournament at Whistling Straits last weekend in Sheboygan, WI. It was a great tournament with a very exciting closing round, won in a playoff by a young man from Germany named Martin Kaymer. He beat a very long-hitting left handed American named Bubba Watson in a three hole playoff. A very interesting thing happened in the last few holes, however. A young man named Dustin Johnson actually had a very strong chance to win the tournament, but was assessed a two stroke penalty near the end of the final round, and therefore not only did not win, but was not even allowed in the playoff round because the two stroke penalty dropped him down to 4th place in the tournament. In fact, if Dustin Johnson had hit a very makeable putt (which he did not miss by much), everyone would have thought he had won the tournament in regulation. The penalty was not announced until after he had finished his round. He was forced to sign his scorecard which included the 2 stroke penalty, thus effectively eliminating him from the playoff. If he refused to sign the card, or signed a card without including the penalty strokes, he would have been disqualified and unable to claim any prize money. As it was, he did win several hundred thousand dollars, but the lost title meant more than the money. The penalty was assessed because he did not realize he was hitting his ball from one of the thousand sand traps on the course. It was a very small bunker, and the crowd was standing all around the trap and some spectators may have been standing in it. He prepared to swing, thinking that the ground was just worn down to dirt, due to crowds walking on the area for several days. He prepared to take his shot and scraped his club across the sand on the ground a couple of times before hitting the ball. The rules of golf say that a golfer may not touch his club to the ground when preparing to hit a shot out of a sand trap because it would allow the golfer to improve the lie of his shot, and this would be unfair. A violation is a two stroke penalty. Apparently, there were signs in the clubhouse and around the course, warning the players that many of the sand traps are small and may not look like the usual sand traps. Dustin Johnson apparently did not read the signs. Here are a couple of stanzas from this rather long poem:
Fog came to Sheboygan
early in the morning,
a whisper on a gentle wind
that floated in to Whistling Straits
from Lake Michigan.
But in the end were two men,
young and very strong.
One hit left and one hit right
and both could hit it out of sight,
sometimes just a bit too long.
Martin Kaymer and Bubba Watson
moved to playoff tee,
losing Dustin Johnson
to a penalty.
So two young men now faced off
seeking not just victory,
but also names on storied Cup
and a place in history.
Though Bubba Watson hit the pin
on shot from off the green,
Kaymer put the winner in–
just a little breaker–
and with that putt he had his dream:
his name engraved on Wanamaker.
(The next stanza talks about Dustin Johnson’s sand trap and penalty. The final two stanzas are these:)
Dustin Johnson showed his class,
and showed why golf is great:
he didn’t cry; he didn’t whine
about the rules or course design.
Instead he took it like a man,
and signed his card on the line.
(Next time he will read the sign!)
Life is full of strangest fates.
He thinks about what might have been
there at Whistling Straits.
Though it may seem harsh to some,
this is what is best in golf:
In golf, the rules don’t exist
to bend or get around.
If life, perchance, could be like this,
we’d all be better off.
Life, I think, should be like golf.
(All poems and text copyright Daniel Mark Extrom August 2010. I really like how this one came out. It took some time to finish it. If you’d like to see the full version, email me at info@danielmarkpicturepoems.com and I will send a copy via email.)
Tags: "A Blessing for the Golfer", "Bubba Watson", "children's gifts", "Dustin Johnson", "gifts for kids", "golf gift", "golf gifts", "golf rules", "Life should be like golf", "major tournament", "Martin Kaymer", "My Puppy Loves", "PGA golf tournament", "PGA tournament 2010", "puppy gifts", "Puppy poem", "sand trap", "Wanamaker Cup", "Wanamaker Trophy", "Whistling Straits", bunker, bunkers, dog, dog poems, golf, golf poems, PGA, puppies, puppy, Wanamaker
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