By Stuart Shea
When they finally knock down the Metrodome,
And the Twins move to their new outdoor home,
Will fielders lose balls in the sun and goof,
The way they did in the Teflon roof?
Published 7/22/09
The Cowboy Wore a Cubs Hat
by Todd Herges
It’s mid-September and I’m driving
on a perfectly-paved asphalt road
in the Sandhills of Nebraska. Highway 11
North out of Burwell leads me toward a wedding
in Atkinson, where bridal parties ride to receptions
on flatbed trailers pulled behind pickups – rural limousines.
My kids are with me … the one prone to
carsickness up front, and three in back all happily
listen to my plagiarized story about the
Indian Scare of 1864 and the two young brothers
shot dead by Sioux arrows on a frozen Wood River,
near our home, now many miles to the South.
We’ve already discussed the trip home:
when we’ll leave the reception; what we’ll listen to
on the radio – if we can pick up any station; if my
thirteen-year-old daughter may practice her driving.
The Cubs won out over the Huskers and pop music,
though as it later turned out, NPR was our only choice – and was just fine.
It’s been exactly 100 years since the Baby Bears
last won a world championship, and it’s looking
like THIS MIGHT BE THE YEAR,
though I’ve warned the boys this late-season,
top-of-the-standings situation has been seen before
many times.
As we round the curve just north of the Amelia cut-off
I lift my right foot, move it left, and press down lightly
to slow the car, for facing us
in the ditch to my right, between fence and road,
trot three dozen head of black angus cattle, kept in a tight
group by five cowboys on horseback.
A couple of steers near the lead break off to their right,
hoofs hitting highway, wide eyes a little surprised by their
independence and blustery desire to go where they please.
Heading these renegades off at the pass comes a young
Bud drinker on his steed, jeans chap-covered,
head shaded with a surprising cap.
Mostly royal blue, including the bill,
with a white front on which is stitched
in faded red a familiar circular C.
It’s just like the ones I see on TV
atop college kids and retirees
sitting behind home plate or over the vines.
And it’s here, in Nebraska,
on a road less travelled than any I’ve ever seen.
And the fabric of our country,
it now seems to me,
just got stitched a little tighter.
Published 7/21/09
Making the Call
By Stuart Shea
Is it worse when an umpire blows a call
Or when a player–in righteous anger–makes a mockery of it all?
It’s hard to support bad umpiring work
But who wants to watch some player act like a jerk?
Why don’t we even it out.
Let’s increase fan applause-o.
Let’s make umpiring-baiting legal
And let plate umpires call batters out like Enrico Palazzo!
Published 7/20/09
At Least We Know It Ain’t Corked
Published 7/17/09
For the full story on this ingenious new use for a baseball bat, check out this article in the Washington Post.
A New Legacy I Could Believe In
by Sid Yiddish
Legend has it, that in Chicago there are two winning baseball teams.
Ha!
I’d like to believe that one, although the die-hard fans would argue this point for days, weeks, months and years, but I just don’t have time to listen to all the ups & downs, the theories, the conspiracies and all those “what ifs.”
What if the Cubs won the World Series?
What if the White Sox won another World Series within three years?
What if baseball fans in this town rooted for another team altogether and just gave up on the Cubs and White Sox?
What if by some miraculous circumstance, the Cubs and White Sox found some leadership, corralled all of their players together, organized a mentoring program for those of them, not in-the-know and brought them into the fold of knowing and understanding what the game of baseball in Chicago means to fans like me?
Now, that’s a new legacy I could believe in.
Published 7/15/09