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The Hirsute of Happiness

by Greg Simetz

The Yankees offseason was not inconsequential;
They lost slugger Soto whom all deemed fundamental
But the Cash Man got busy, signed Bellinger, Goldschmidt and Fried
Though the bigger news by far came from the facial hair side:
Their beard ban was shaved after a 50-year drought.
The ground crew’s been ordered to let stubble sprout
So come Opening Day, here’s the new Murderer’s Row:
Wells, Stanton and Volpe sporting 5 o’clock shadows.
Can ZZ Top Bombers stop the Dodgers from winning?
Or stop beating themselves in horrific 5th innings?
There’s only one thing for sure we’ll all get to see:
Aaron Judge going from goat to goatee.

 

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In a Good Winter

by Richie Hebner

In a good winter,
I’ll dig 50 graves.

It’s good work.
I get 25 bucks a grave.

If it has snowed, you just use a pick and shovel, scoop away the snow, the ground is good and soft.
But if it hasn’t snowed, the ground might be frozen two feet down.
You have to use a pneumatic drill.

One time last winter, the ground was so hard and the weather was so cold I said,
“Ah, that’s deep enough.”
There’s a law that a grave’s got to be so deep,
five feet or something,

And the Rabbi says,
“That’s not deep enough.”

“Did you ever see one get out?”
I asked him.

h/t to Jim Koenigsberger and his great Twitter account, @Jimfrombaseball

 

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True North

by James Finn Garner

“Make Canada the 51st state!”
Brays a thief-liar-rapist in hate.
Compassionate, fair,
Straight-up, self-aware–
Canucks are all things he ain’t.

With my bear buddy, Buddy Brown Bear, at a Vancouver Canadians game, June 2023.

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It Ain’t Over . . .

by Louise Grieco

Baseball is something
like love. There’s an elegance
about it — a fine tension.

Fielders pluck comets
from thin and glorious air.
pitchers make solid spheres
disappear. And batters smash meteors
with matchsticks.

But fielders also topple
over fences, sprawl empty-handed
in the dust. Pitchers throw wild.
And batters sometimes tilt
at windmills.

Yet they lean in — watch — wait.
They risk looking foolish
in order to be brilliant.

Louise Grieco’s baseball poems often travel at lightspeed to the outer reaches of the galaxy. More a fan of the sport than of any particular team, she nevertheless rooted for the Yankees as a child growing up near Boston in the 1950’s-’60s. She lives and writes in Albany NY.