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A Poem for Lou Piniella

Quite a fella,
That Lou Piniella.
He ain’t yella,
You can tella.

He joined the Cubs
To lead those scrubs
And prove past flubs
Were yesterday’s stubs.

A Herculean task?
Don’t even ask.
In last year’s grotesque,
They finished dead last.

But with Al Soriano
And Carlos Zambrano,
The team may be on to
A World Series, pronto.

And if the Cubs win
A World Series, then
The fans will have gin
Drenching their chins.

If not, then old Lou
Will have some ‘splainin’ to do,
Which he’ll probably do
With a meltdown or two.

Posted on

Early Buehrle Hurlyburly

By Stu Shea

While it isn’t the same
As winning a game
From towheaded, cute little leaguers,
To shut down a team
That’s no hitting machine
Remains low on the “difficult” meter.
But no-hit affairs
Are still fairly rare
Particularly in this age
So even the Rangers
Who mostly are strangers
Pose putative threats in the cage.
In Mark Buehrle’s big scene
Back on April 18
At windy, chilly U.S. Cell
He flattened out Texas
Like they were his breakfast
Or apples for William Tell.
Ex-Cubs Sosa, Hairston,
And Lofton had no fun
Against Buehrle’s changing of speeds,
And obscuros like Kata,
Cruz, Laird, and the remainda
Dropped no base hits into the weeds.
So Buehrle was fitter.
He got his no-hitter
The AL’s first since Derek Lowe’s,
Bringing him validation
Across our great nation
In expanded post-game highlight shows.