by Michael X. Ferraro
Since one hobbled hero punched out the sky
The falls have been dull, or worse yet, just shy.
For 25 years, no Dodger champagne–
The 90s and Aughts both circled the drain.
This once-storied franchise seemed out of sorts,
Under FOX ownership, then… the McCourts.
“O’Malley, where art thou?,” wailed the true Blue,
until, just like Magic, that gang was through.
Now Gonzo is clearing ducks off the pond,
Dee Gordon stole second (while you just yawned).
That Jansen is lights out, Puig’s got a gun
and Kemp, once again, is hitting a ton.
Greinke rings ’em up, Ryu mows’em down,
and Uribe’s got the best hands in town.
BUT Hanley is gimpy. The bullpen’s thin.
Call a search party, where’s Ethier been?
Can Mattingly manage in the big games,
Or will one more yearbook go up in flames?
The catchers both bat with petrified wood,
Yet Kershaw is crazy, Koufaxy good.
For two point five decades they’ve come up short.
That is the maddening part of this sport.
A bad hop here, or a fluke double there,
can transform confetti into despair.
The stage is now set at Chavez Ravine,
for a typically late Hollywood scene.
Way up in his booth, Vin’s riding catbird
in hopes that the crowd will have the last word.
Michael X. Ferraro’s debut novel, a pro football satire called Circus Catch, will be available on Amazon and elsewhere in October.