The Tuba Man

Since tomorrow is the official public memorial for Seattle’s favorite fan, The Tuba Man, I decided to put together this little tribute. Here goes nothing:

.

The Tuba Man

.
On a wooden chair he played his horn
He played it rain or shine
He played it when we were winning big
And he played when we were behind
.
His lungs were made of hardened steel
His instrument of brass
His wardrobe was an afterthought
His stage a patch of grass
.
In the shadows of our stadiums
From The Safe back to The Dome
When his notes filled our city blocks
We felt glad to play at home
.
Seasons ended players changed
But one face always remained
The Tuba Man and his big brass horn
To greet fans outside the game
.
The tuba ain’t a pretty thing
But damn if it ain’t loud
And if you listen close enough
You’ll still hear him in the crowd
.
Because somewhere up there he’s looking down
And he’s smiling from the stands
The games in heaven must sound so much sweeter
Now that there’s a tuba in the band.

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2 responses to “The Tuba Man

  1. Eli, that was an awesome poem! I’ve really been struck with all the news about the Tuba Man around here lately and actually thought of him at the last home seahawks game when I didn’t see him sitting on Occidental… little did I know. Thanks for your tribute.

  2. There was a memorial held at Key Arena yesterday for the Tuba Man. 1500 people attended! Tuba players from the Seattle Symphony played and bigwigs from several of our major league teams spoke on his behalf. Your poem would have been a wonderful eulogy.

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