by James Finn Garner

If you hate inane postgame banter
–canned, obsequious, and jock-y–
Then you need to tip your hat ter
The Jays’ Munenori Kawasaki.

With glee he mangles all the blather
–”We came to play,” “Let’s have a look”–
In an accent thick as lather
From his handy battered phrase book.

The talking heads’ condescension
Is clear in their braying bonhomie,
But Mune, in whatever declension,
Will not be deterred by the phonies.

Add to this his pregame stretches
And hapless epileptic boogaloos,
You’ll see fun is back in baseball, betches.
Will someone tell Selig the news?

By Hilary Barta

Nothing quicker a rally will slay,
Than the pitcher’s old pal, double-play.
First the pickup and flip,
Then the pivot, and zip! 
It’s the nick-of-time bail-out ballet.

by Pat McCaughey

Tate Mee Ott Tutor Ball Gomes.
Tate Mee Ott Tutor Crouse.
Brye Meacham Peterson Crocker Hack.
Hoy Dent Karnuth Hoy Evers Gibbs Brack.
Foor Fritz Root, Root, Root, Forster Holm Teahen.
Imlay Dent Wynn Acker Sain.
Foor Fritz Jahn, Drew, Troy Sykes Yde Houk
Acker Olt Ball Gomes.

By Stu Shea

Sure, I wish they didn’t take drugs
To reach the heights they do.
Yes, I wish that we could go back
And not know the stuff we do.
Of course, it’s not the game we played
Upon the fields of youth…
But no one would pay to watch us play,
And that’s the honest truth.