by Hilary Barta
Versus Brewers, the Cubs couldn’t score
Then they blew out the Mets, runs galore
Either famine or feast
Docile lamb or fierce beast
Will they mewl at the Cards, or else roar?
How Cleveland Ended Baseball
by James Finn Garner
“Grandpa, tell me once again
How the Tribe could never lose.”
“Well, kid, in August of ’17
They was playing good, quick and loose,
“When the Boston Carmines came to town–
A purt good team, or so I heard–
Bauer climbed upon the mound
And crikey, a miracle occurred!
“Might’ve been magic, or a curse,
Or blasted divine intervention
But they plum forgot how to lose.
Game in, game out, no apprehension,
“The Tribe just kept on winning!
Like the sun a-rising in the east
When come the final inning,
Francona’s boys just rose like yeast.
“It’s been 15 years or more, I reckon,
Since that team has notched an L.
Never trailing nor choking for a second,
From first of March to closing bell.”
“Grandpa, what about the other teams?”
“They just broke up, one by one.
No league no more, because it seems
With no fair chance, the game ain’t no fun.”
Motown’s Upton Funk
by Michael X. Ferraro
Detroit, you’ve got no Uptons left.
Justin’s long gone — of Kate, bereft.
Pray those front office moves are deft
Just like Verlander’s chin so cleft.
Would Triples Still Go There to Die?
by the Village Elliott
Here at Jints’ game I had this thought,
When “can of corn” in sun-field’s caught:
When Giants moved to Candlestick,
The Senior Circuit feared Mays’ stick,
Knew “Say Hey” was the only guy
Whose triples fell where others’ died;
In basket-web of Willie’s glove,
By Grace of sweet Talullah’s love.
But, if Mays played at ATT,
Just how great would his career be
While patrolling Triples Alley
To left-center’s deep Death Valley?
Would triples still go there to die?
What reason is there to deny,
That to these fans now sitting here
Willie is worth more here each year?
I Am Some Body!
by Jim Siergey
O, how I wish Destiny put
As catcher, one day, Barry Foote
While on the mound lands
The hurler Bill Hands
I’d pay an arm and a leg to see that
The bullpen is aptly in place
With perfectly named Elroy Face
As one last zinger
We add Rollie Fingers
With Heinie Manush up to bat
As he comes to the plate, there’s a buzz,
The one man with the name to give pause,
Each syllable clear-
Ly a body part dear:
Here comes man-of-parts Tony Armas!