by Jim Siergey
They called Ernie Banks “Mister Cub”
but Santo could sure be his sub
He bled Cubbie Blue
(They never came through)
For Ronnie, ah, that was the rub
Jim often posts under the pseudonym Norm Knott at LimerWrecks.
Sparky Anderson
by James Finn Garner
The snowy hair
The doleful stare
The mangled speech
The subtle preach
The dubious start
The gentle heart
The hook that stings
Three Series rings
The postgame pipe
The misplaced hype
Shaggy dog stories
Humble glories
A light gone dark
We’ll miss you, Spark
Go Giants!
by Hershey Sri
Orange and Black
They never slack
Did you see Renteria bat?
His back deserves a pat
Lincecum pitched well
It made me feel swell
Posey hit far
He made the World Series look like a war
Wilson finished up the game
In the next one, hope he does the same
Four to one the Rangers lost
I wonder how much the trophy costs
All in all
I love Baseball!
From the Littlest Giant Fans
Last month, the third- and fourth-graders at Commodore Sloat Elementary School in San Francisco wrote some poems to honor their hometown heroes, now world champions. Here are a few of them, as reported at SFGate.com:
It’s a Splash Hit
It’s Barry Zito hitting
home runs to the crowd.
Next up—Freddy Sanchez!
Crowd goes wild. Freddy hits the ball high flying
up, up, up—it’s out of the park.
It’s a splash hit!
Home Team’s the winner.
-Alden Cheang, 4th grade
Orange Baseball Caps
It’s a hard baseball of
calm robins dancing.
It’s sweet sugary lemonade.
It’s an excited catcher,
Buster Posey, throwing
apples, stars, and
orange baseball caps.
-Jun Chan, 3rd grade
I Am the Father of Huff’s Splash Hits
I am the father of Aubrey Huff’s splash hits.
I am the grandpa of Cody Ross’ RBI’s in game 5 of the NLCS.
I am the great grandpa of Andres Torres’ steals and doubles.
I am the great great grandpa of the Freak’s changeup.
I am the black, gold, and white home runs
of Buster Posey, Will Clark, Barry Bonds,
Willie Mays, and Juan Uribe.
All I know is I have
the best team in the world
because of Brian Wilson
getting to work at twilight
at Pacific Bell Park.
(Everyone
goes crazy when
he saves the game.)
-Sameer Mustafa, 4th grade
There They Go!
There they go up into
the sky—the orange and black
balls shoot up all over
the stars.
And there they go! Home
run! Crowd bursts into action.
I wish I were the steel bat
as it hits a home run.
There he goes—fast as lightning
and it’s a miracle he catches the ball.
There they go—howling, yelling,
roaring, too. That’s the crowd for you.
-Madison Chang, 4th grade
Flying Balls and Fans’ Calls
Flying balls and fans’ calls
and lots and lots of gulls
flying all over town
forming a giant crown
around San Francisco
creating a giant disco.
People dancing and
fans prancing’ trying
to get the ball—just
can’t get their fingers on it
because it’s too small
1st, 2nd, 3rd, home run!
The Giants beat them all,
nothing in the way,
the World Series just
two days away!
First Rays, then Braves,
Yippee! We beat them all!
There’s nothing better than
playing ball!
-Sawyer Dobson, 4th grade
New Planets
It’s a silver bat hitting a blue baseball
in the night sky while wolves awake
in hidden caves near the calm
Pacific Ocean filled with creatures
looking at the night sky
and the icy Milky Way
while scientists
seek new planets.
-Daniel Doan, 3rd grade
The Groundskeeper
by Susanna Rich
knows dirt makes the game—
clay makes firms footing;
sand perfects bounce.
The ballpark may crumble,
yet, the last morning of the last game,
the groundskeeper tends the grass,
edges lip build-up, and leaves.
He is the here that isn’t here,
maker of what must grow or not
around our mound of dust.
His field is our mother—each
winding up is promise—and hope.
Susanna wrote and narrated this poem for “Cobb Field: A Day at the Ballpark,” Craig Lindvahl’s documentary, for which she was nominated for an Emmy. The film can frequently be seen on the MLB Network. Susanna has been published numerous times in Spitball and read frequently at the Yoga Berra Museum at Montclair State University in New Jersey.