by James Finn Garner
Old Zim
When I think of him
Looks like chaw and tar
And a grand har-har
To those squares
Who don’t care
About baseball
And giving your all
For what you love.
And when push comes to shove,
Had Martinez been 70,
Zim would’ve pounded him plenty.
You’re our kind of guy.
Goodbye, Popeye.
Poet Elliot Kolker eulogized Zim in rhyming couplets:
Zimmer’s gone, face the facts,
Just Lasorada, Koufax,
From his Brooklyn days left, so it seems
Like many of Don’s chums
From World Champion Bums
He’s now playing on the “Field of Dreams.”
Farewell, Boy of Summer,
Your loss is a bummer,
For all fans of the game, far and wide.
Chi fans still get jiggley
’bout that game in Wrigley
When Will Clark’s grannie made Cubbies cry.
Bill Lee oft got verbal
Speaking of the Gerbil
And the metal plate glued in his head
Don went apoplectic
When the unexpected
Bucky Dent left his Red Sox for dead.
Do not forget Pedro
Squeezed Gerbil like Play-dough
When Zim was the Yankee’s bench caddy,
Zim said he was okay,
“Just the heat of the play,”
While Pedro said, “Zim is my Daddy.”
So Farewell, Don Zimmer,
The game has grown dimmer
Without you, who’ll provide comedy?
Now that you’re gone you’ll go
To sit next to Kendo
In the bleachers for eternity.