Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
by Doug Fahrendorff
Milwaukee seemed near that summer
Earl Gillespie and
Blaine Walsh
Brought us the excitement
As the Braves
Battled for the pennant
The radio our ticket
To County Stadium
Aaron and Matthews
Spahn and Burdette
A World Series win
Over the hated Yankees
Celebrate Wisconsin!
Posted 6/9/2009
Words and music by Tom Rinaldi
(Scroll down to play the MP3)
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There’s something about looking out on a big field of green
A diamond, four bases, and ninety feet in-between
The players go ‘round with their pant legs rolled up to their knees
The smell of fresh peanuts ‘a roasting is caught in the breeze
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Let’s go to the ball park
I haven’t been in a while
I used to watch my favorite slugger
Knock that baseball a mile
Let’s go to the ball park
Let’s be kids again
Hot dogs with mustard
And frozen custard
Just like it was back then
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The magic allure of the game is as pure as the snow
With nicknames like Lefty and Dizzy and Murderer’s Row
And nothing’s as pretty as watching the infield “get two”
Or watching a pop up fall out of a big sky of blue
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Repeat Chorus
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Where else can you go
Where they stop the show
Two-thirds of the way
Just to stretch and sing a song
Before they continue to play?
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[audio:http://bardball.com/audio/01 Track 1.mp3]Repeat Chorus
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Posted 6/5/2009
by James Finn Garner
I was warmly surprised
That the new Yankee Stadium
Has all those spare seats
(And good ones, too!)
For the ghosts of all the fans
In the Yankee Universe who never made it there:
The Bowery Bum who could never buy a ticket,
The upstate farmer who could never spare time,
The soldier who fought alongside Joltin’ Joe and never made it back,
The street kid who played catch with junk and never had a chance, at anything.
I bet a Bombers game on the radio
Was sometimes a cooling touch of silk that eased their minds,
And Yankee Stadium unseen was
A green heaven they didn’t know they wished for.
Now they’re behind home plate,
Feet up, leaning back,
Making good use of the space.
Here’s to them,
And to the good-hearted Yankees.
Posted 6/4/2009
by James Motz
What’s this – a dome? This field is a joke!
Everything all fake, bunch of mirrors and smoke.
Where’s the blue skies and warm sunny feelings
Instead of blue plastic, “Baggies” – a ceiling?!
Neck twisted left for eight innings to see
The man in gray swing and miss for strike three!
You call that working the count? Must I
Suffer the insult of cheering that guy?!
The whole thing unfolds, painful to watch.
First a single, a double, couple of walks.
The lead for our team, thought to be safe
Now just about gone – and I’m outta faith.
The fan to my right stands up and cheers,
He’s awfully close to our un-empty beers,
But how can he resist from rubbing it in?
The mighty Tigers have a crappy bullpen!
“Break out the brooms!” He takes up the shout.
Whole lousy place ready, there’s really no doubt…
There! Crede kills us again, no surprise.
Every time, losing to a team I despise.
Cramped in my seat, I glower. “This sucks!”
Says my friend who spent over sixty bucks
To drive from Wisconsin to watch them win.
Now he goes home disappointed again.
Another lead blown, and all the fans scream,
And in my new town, down goes my old team.
The teeth are grit hard, tears beg to be wept,
My beloved Detroit Tigers got swept.
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Posted 6/2/2009
by Stephen Jones
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Slower than a slider
the sun the breeze today
a wild pitch of weather is
The sky settled in May’s dugout
a month’s sun-and-cloud teaming
. . . and what of defense?
We’ll see large bulky clouds
crouch, the sun concuss
& diamond dreams evolve.
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For more of Stephen’s poetry and photographs, check out his blog.
Posted 6/1/2009