The Bookkeepers Talk Baseball

by Jim Daniels

Betsy says a friend of hers
went to high school with Kirk Gibson
and that he was stuck up even then.

Debbie says Frank is taking her
to one of those things
where they play two games in one day.
What’s it called, a double bubble?
She makes a face: I can hardly stand one game
much less two.

Jack, the burly security guard says
it’s too damn boring. Everybody
standing around picking their asses.

I sit at my desk
flipping through accounts, pulling overdrafts.
My ass squirms in padded comfort
longing for the bleacher’s hard bench.

Arnold says he likes it better
on tv. Why go to the ballpark,
he asks, and deal with the traffic
and the crowds?

Better on tv?
Get yer red hots heah!
Coke! Iiiiiiice Cooooold Coke!
Crack of bat on ball. Smell
of stale cigars and spilled beer.
Seventh inning stretch.
Cold beer in the sun.

Cold beer in the sun.
I bang my seat
to start up a rally.

Jim Daniels is the Thomas Stockham Baker Professor of English at Carnegie Mellon University.  His newest story collection, TRIGGER MAN: More Tales of the Motor City, is now available, and can be ordered from Amazon here.

Small-Market Blues, Again

By Stuart Shea

In 2008, Sabathia came,
And helped Milwaukee win the crown.
But he left that winter without a wave
When the Yankees laid the big money down.

Now in ’11 the Brewers soar
With a Prince playing out the end of his deal.
Will the market gap play out and drive him away?
How are the fans supposed to feel?

Cautionary Yankee Reality As Playoffs Loom

by Stephen Jones

One moment The Yankees set a record
three grand slams in one game

The next they fumble like dead wood
decidedly not the same

In golf drive for show
. . . but putt for dough

In baseball the axiom is the same
more often pitching wins the game

As playoffs loom strong arm Yankee batting
alone will not guaranty Yankee winning

Choice Cuts

by Jim Siergey

The choice is A. Dunn or A. Rios
Which one of them hurt the Sox the most?
.    This year they both stank
.    but one broke the bank
So, Alex, it’s Vaya con Dios

Mantle

by William Heyen

Mantle ran so hard, they said,
he tore his legs to pieces.
What is this but spirit?

52 homers in ’56, the triple crown.
I was a high school junior, batting
fourth behind him in a dream.

I prayed for him to quit, before
his lifetime dropped below .300.
But he didn’t, and it did.

He makes Brylcreem commercials now,
models with opened mouths draped around him
as they never were in Commerce, Oklahoma,

where the sandy-haired, wide-shouldered boy
stood up against his barn,
lefty for an hour (Ruth, Gehrig),

then righty (DiMaggio),
as his father winged them in,
and the future blew toward him,

now a fastball, now a slow
curve hanging
like a model’s smile

William Heyen’s poems have appeared in over 100 periodicals. He taught English literature and creative writing at the State University of New York College at Brockport for over 30 years. He recently performed “Mantle” at the Chautauqua Festival.