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Crossing the Clemente Bridge

by Stewart O’Nan

The Tigers come in 6-0.
That’s not how they’re gonna go.
Our offense may not look like much–
a bunch of kids surrounding Cutch–
and sure, we’re missing Russell Martin,
Charlie Morton’s no longer startin’,
Volquez is gone, and bench coach Jeff Bannister
has a throne in Texas like a Bush or Lannister,
but A.J.’s back, and Cory Hart, Confederate soldier,
plus all the kids are one year older.
With Pedro
you don’t know,
so bring on the Cards,
the cream of the division,
and the Reds’ decidedly senior edition,
and the ‘roid-riddled Brew Crew,
and the overpraised Cubs.
We’ve got enough talent to hang with those clubs.
After years in the desert,
our wandering’s over.
Cutch is our Moses.
See you in October.

Let’s go Bucs!

 

Stewart O’Nan is the author of 18 books, including Faithful: Two Diehard Boston Red Sox Fans Chronicle the Historic 2004 Season, written with Stephen King. His latest novel is West of Sunset.

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Sgt. Pepper’s 2015 Forecast: “Getting Better”

by James Finn Garner

I used to get mad up in Queens
At that flub-driven, do-nothing team
but Omar Minaya’s long said “Sayonara”
The rebuild is picking up steam.

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
I have to admit they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

The rotation has Senor Colon
An anchor in more ways than one
Jakob deGrom is really da bomb
I hope Wheeler’s arm isn’t done

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
We’ve heard it before — they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

I’ve been patient with Granderson, Ruben Tejada, and everyone else on this weak-swinging squad,
I trust David Wright is finally right
And God protect Travis d’Arnaud.

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
They’re not the Yanks — they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

 

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Sgt. Pepper’s 2015 Forecast: “Joe Maddon, Joe Maddon!”

by James Finn Garner

For one hundred years, nothin’ but tears and “Wait til next year”
Nothing to do but hoist a few nine-dollar beers
What are the odds? Did we anger the gods?
I have one thing to say, that it’s okay:
JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON!

Epstein’s at work, trying to stock up the old farm
Call up sure things, they bring nothing, nothing but harm

.      Try to fix the park, the fanbase screams
.      Just try to find new money streams
.      Rebuild the bleachers?  They’re still torn down!
.      Cards fans and rats all over town

Not much to say ‘bout Felix Pie, another “sure bet.”
Itzuris and Guzman — what’s the use, man?  One more null set.
Calling Marmol to save’s like digging your grave
I have one thing to say, that it’s okay:
JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON!

.      But Castro, Alcantara and Baez
.      Might be as good as Epstein says
.      Jorge Soler’s a beast, and — WOW!
.      John Lester’s here? Please shoot me now!

Try to temper hope, not be a dope, but it’s getting hard
Everyone’s cryin’ to see Kris Bryant in the ballyard
Reverse the Curse? We couldn’t get worse.
There’s just one thing to say, we’ve made our play:
JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON!
JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON!
JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON, JOE MADDON!

 

 

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Sgt. Pepper’s 2015 Forecast: “When I’m .204”

by James Finn Garner

For the Yankees:

When I get older, losing my speed,
Not so long from now,
Will you still be batting me at DH,
Late-game left field, riding the bench?
When the Yanks are down 17 to 3,
Count on me to score.
Will you still play me,
Will you still pay me,
When I’m .204?

Every contract season there’s a vet’ran on the trading block that could fill a need
. . . CC, Gardner, A-Rod, Beltran . . .
Then in March he wrecks his knees,
Hank, is this your plan?

Farm system looks like a north Texas ranch
In 1933.
By August we’ll be chasing after Tampa Bay
All our prospects traded away.
Reflexes wane and muscles are sore
“On deck: Dumbledore!”
Will you still play me,
Will you still pay me,
When I’m .204?

 

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Sgt. Pepper’s 2015 Forecast: Intro

by Stuart Shea

It was 17 years ago today
The home run chase seemed to save the day
But the numbers weren’t what they seemed
Neither Sosa nor McGwire were clean

Here’s regime change for you (if anybody really cares)
Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling Drug-Test Crew!

(skin flute solos)

We’re Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling Drug-Test Crew
Now come and pee into this cup
Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling Drug-Test Crew
Our game is on the up-and-up

Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling
Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling
Sgt. Manfred’s Smiling Drug-Test Crew

It’s wonderful to be clean
It gives us such a thrill
To know we’ve purged the game of drugs
Except, of course, for adderall
And liquor pays our bills!

I don’t really want to stop the game
But I’d like to make a little claim
What will happen, can you deduce,
When they legalize a “drug of abuse”?

Have you thought about what that will mean
When 300 million folks ain’t “clean”
Like Sgt. Manfred’s smiling Drug-Test crew?