Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
How fast can young Javier run?
He’s past you before you’ve begun
Plus reckless, aggressive . . .
Aw heck, he’s impressive
A master of fleet, flashy fun.
For daily limericks on classic cinema (including regular features like “Dwight Frye-Day”), check out Hilary’s hilarious blog, LimerWrecks.
Salma Hayek with a broken nose
Kittens stuck in lava flows
Graffiti at the Alamo
Steve Bannon in seductive pose
Zombies chawing on my toes
Sarah Sanders’ underclothes
A schoolbus in an undertow
But worst of all
JV decked out for the ‘Stros.
The Yankees are p.o.’d as heck
At the way the Red Sox use tech.
It’s plain wrong to steal signs
Using Interweb vines!
Or is it? asks Bill Belichick.
Michael X. Ferraro has gotten paid to come up with nicknames for Shaquille O’Neal, write sports rants for Dennis Miller, and generate outrageous tabloid fodder for the Weekly World News, among other, much crappier jobs. Check out his hilarious football satire, Circus Catch.
I watched in disbelief.
I can’t get no relief –
From an umpire whose eyesight
Is worse than a badger’s.
Here quoth the baseball,
Its wings made of leather:
“Balls are strikes and
Strikes are balls. Evermore.”
It was then, in my chair,
That I yawned tired air.
I dropped the remote,
And the room did darken . . .
. And a carny voice did harken:
. “Hur-ray! Hur-ray!
. An instant baseball fan solution –
. Coming soon, to your television.
. “Fans – are you tired of bad calls?
. Does the umpire need a vision check?
. Do you think the strike zone
. Moves around too much?
. “Well then, have no fear –
. The solution, it’s right here.
. It’s called ‘Auto-Strike’ –
. The new e-lec-tronic game in town.
. “So, say goodbye to tradition
. And the curse of bad vision.
. ‘Auto-Strike’ will cure
. Each and every umpire call!”
. (Disclaimer: The Salem’s Lot Nine
. Will now miss its boo-and-hiss time
. And the ever-popular fan favorite –
. Burning umpires at the stake.)
Here quoth the baseball,
Its wings made of leather:
“Balls are strikes and
Strikes are balls. Evermore.”
I shifted in my chair,
Of the game unaware,
And continued my reverie
Of balls, strikes . . . and late-night TV.
. Laughter came from off-screen,
. From an audience of the dream,
. And there was a smirking host
. Who thought he was being clever:
. “Just to be clear . . . the ball is scanned,
. Just like cereal or a country ham
. Off a bar code at a grocery store?
. And what would happen then,
. “If it didn’t correctly scan in?
. This is baseball, not a market,
. And you just can’t call out:
. ‘Hey . . . price check, aisle four.’”
Here quoth the baseball,
Its wings made of leather:
“Balls are strikes and
Strikes are balls. Evermore.”
It was almost 2:00 am when I awoke.
An infomercial was spewing smoke
About saving me time and money . . .
And dreams replacing reality.
. “Yessir, yessir . . . get it now, get it here.
. From those folks who brought you
. ‘The Pocket Baseball’ and ‘One-Pitch Wonder’,
. And the ever-popular ‘One That Got Away’.”
Even as I arose and shook my head
And stumbled off to bed,
The sonorous voice behind me said:
“Balls are strikes and
Strikes are balls. Evermore.”