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Splitt will not make the game today
Beckoned was he and called away.
Called up to the highest league
Where there’s no arm or voice fatigue.
Where umpires call the perfect game
And players are of equal fame.
Broadcasters sit in fancy suites
And fans all enjoy front row seats.
His days with us too soon did pass
But memories – how they will last.
A good man was Paul, big of heart
In life’s drama, played well his part.
The love of life became his bride
In ups and downs Lynn did abide.
Blessed were they with girl and boy
Jen and Jamie brought much joy.
At Morningside he honed his skills
The crowds were small, but not the thrills.
Alas and alack talent won out
And discovered was he by a scout.
Drafted by a team just beginning
Lacking even one big league inning.
A loyal Royal he came to be
Thankful for the opportunity.
When big 34 took the mound
His leg kicked high, his ball veered down.
Not known for overwhelming stuff
But what he had was just enough.
If asked the cause of his success
Like a Clydesdale he would profess.
One hundred sixty-six games he won
A Royal’s record – he’s number one.
From field to booth, he smoothly went
His baseball passion no less spent.
A workhorse, whatever the task
Facts to gather, questions to ask.
Self-deprecation came naturally
Not given was he to the word “me.”
With humor and wit quite beguiling
Time spent with him left folks smiling.
Splitt will not make the game today
Beckoned was he and called away.
Called away to a better place
Where entry is not perfection-based.
To meet the Master face-to-face
Experiencing God’s saving grace.
A soul set free through heaven’s door
A soul set free forever more.
-Tom Flynn 1968
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