by Bruce Daniels
Baseball’s Hall of Fame hails a time-honored game,
That cannot be settled by clock.
Inning after inning, no team is winning,
I’d opt not to buy tickets or stock.
If one is so clever, a game can last forever,
A tie score all knotted at zip.
Ruth started the line-up, need new hitters to sign up,
Like Bonds who can make a round trip.
But we may never survive to see a line drive,
For me the game just drives me bonkers.
Be it Brooklyn or Yanks, if you ask me, “No thanks!”
The Bronx just bombed out, on to Yonkers!
This time-worn tradition should be sent to perdition,
The outcome has outlasted my strength.
Would there be sudden death? Please don’t hold your breath,
This game of ages is just so by its length!
Published in Fans, Former Teams, History, Pure doggerel, The Game Itself, Youth | Link to this poem | 1 Comment