Roberto (2)

Punta Maldonado, off the Puerto Rican coast
People sometimes meet there to offer up a toast
To the greatest baseball player they ever called their own
Who went off on a mission, and never made it home

The earthquake was horrific, the aid was pouring in
Roberto helped to organize a whole planeload to send
The Nicaraguan junta had been looting all it could
He’d fly with it to make sure it got to all the neighborhoods

It wouldn’t pass inspection, the plane that he would hire
The pilot that came with it, his license had expired
A local huckster owned it, he wasn’t sure it flew
He kept that to himself but the paint on it was new

The plane was overloaded, the cargo not secured
Standard operating procedures were totally ignored
The engine didn’t sound right said the people on the ground
When it took off for Managua & tried to circle back around

People still remember where they were that New Year’s Eve
When the word began to spread and hardly anyone believed
Helicopters hovered all throughout the nights
Just above the water sweeping with their lights

They never found Roberto & the search went on for days
Frantically at first and then they found his leather case
No one could bear to call it off and so they carried on
The divers never found him, Roberto, he was gone

Punta Maldonado, off the Puerto Rican coast
People sometimes stand there looking for his ghost
The greatest baseball player they ever called their own
Who went off on a mission, and never made it home