Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Oh, what is to be done with Brooks
If you can’t blame umpiring crooks,
Nor looming Giants, hated mooks,
Nor your peers, inadvertent schmucks?
Pilfer question marks from scorebooks
Recording dodgy moves by rooks?
Pelt him with food from angry cooks?
Hope he retreats to distant nooks?
Or just give him frustrated looks
And celebrate Cox’ final hooks?
The peerless Ember Nickel blogs at Lipogram! Scorecard!
by David Bellel
What a difference a day made
Less than twenty-four little hours
Brought the gloom and the showers
Where there used to be joy
My yesterday was true, dear
Today I’m feeling so blue, dear
My happy nights are through, dear
Since we went with Phil Hughes
What a difference a day makes
There’s a rainbow behind me
Skies above can’t be sunny
Since those pitches went amiss, boy am I pissed!
It’s hell when you find no chance on your menu
What a difference a day made
And the difference is Hughes
What a difference a day makes
There’s a rainbow behind me
Skies above can’t be sunny
Since those pitches went amiss, boy am I pissed!
It’s hell when you find no chance on your menu
What a difference a day made
And the difference is Hughes
Is Hughes
For more of David’s Yankee obsessions, check out his blog, Pseudo-Intellectualism.
Once you’ve been saved
by the Church of
St. Baseball—the
game is All: the
Hot Dog! grill’s the
altar; bases
are stations of
the moss; the pope’s
on second; cheers
are chants; every
hit aches for the
sky; every word
is—Say Hey!—a
prayer for home.
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.
Enjoyment for the readers of Good Phight,
The trade we made for Mr. Halladay;
He throws a pitch and batters hide in fright.
His perfect game–the manliest, alright.
He’ll lift some weights and then go out and play!
Enjoyment for the readers of Good Phight.
We thought that trading Lee was not too bright.
We thought we’d lose, and surely rue the day.
He throws a pitch and batters hide in fright.
The big righthander’s murder in the night.
He tortures batters, grabs their flesh to flay.
Enjoyment for the readers of Good Phight!
His cutter rapes the batters of their sight,
They flail about and stammer from dismay.
He throws a pitch and batters hide in fright.
And Uncle Charlie, blessed with manful might
To pitch him on short rest is wise, I say.
Enjoyment for the readers of Good Phight.
He throws a pitch and batters hide in fright
Posted on 10/7/10 on the Phillies blog, The Good Phight, which has been a source for some great fan poetry of late.
by Ashkon
At least now, a Bay Area team can employ the Bay Area Band anthem: