Jorge Posada: A Poem of Love

by Hart Seely

The whole league fears our great armada,
Contenders in each year’s regatta.
But now it’s fear, we got a lotta,
Adrift without Jorge Posada.

We always reach that upper strata
And chase The Biggest Enchilada.
But now we’re hopeless: nothing, nada.
That’s life without Jorge Posada.

Great glory? We shall never win it,
If forced to send out Kelly Stinnett.
There is no chance with Sal Fasano,
If Jorge’s down, like Carl Pavano.

I’d rather use than Mike Piazza
Some cashier from a K Mart plaza,
Our only power would be solar,
If batting sixth we use Chad Moeller.

The fans won’t come to our arena
To watch us with Jose Molina.
Our chances shall be rank and smelly,
The day we sign Doug Mirabelli.

It brings great pain for me to say,
We’re even thin at Triple A.
And we will watch with great dismay,
Until we see our man… Jorge.

Posted 5/6/08

Hart Seely is the author of the hilarious Mother Goose Goes to Washington, as well as Oh Holy Cow: The Selected Verse of Phil Rizzuto, newly released in a 15th-anniversary edition. He often hangs around the Yankee website, It is High, It is Far, It is….caught, offering tasteful and constructive comments to management and players alike.

67 Riots

by James Finn Garner

To quiet the crowd,
Willie Horton
Stands on a squad car.

The home town hero,
The schoolboy star from Northwestern High,
Tries to tell them to forget their rage
And go back home.

But one man
Can’t tell two hundred men
To shrug off the sins of ten thousand men,
As the fires of anger and humiliation spread to shops and homes and burns like a furnace,
A crucible that doesn’t purify but only destroys.

Even a man in the hometown uniform
Stitched with the old English “D”.

 

Gavin Givin’ His All

by James Finn Garner

The Sox hopes are buoyed
By young Gavin Floyd.
Could this hurler be one for the eras?

If not, then they’re stuck
With Buerhle’s bad luck
And “forever young” Jose Contreras.

Posted 4/29/08 

Misery is the Name of the Game

by Sid Yiddish

We’re going back…back…back…

Hey! Hey! There’s a game today, but I’m not going.

No, I can’t afford it.

Seems to me only the privileged and the drunkards get to go and root for their team in the miserable Chicago rain, but misery is the name of the game, when the Cubbies are concerned.

So, like…are they truly worth the throngs of fans who become viciously unruly when the boys in blue are losing, or do they just booze it up with that last cupful of beer and when a swig is taken, realize that it’s just empty like that bullpen at the last half of the 6th?

It is neither magic, but perhaps more myth.

That, well, what if the Cubs were to win another pennant and go all the way and win that silver loving ashtray…

Keep dreaming losers, keep dreaming.

Posted 4/28/08 

3 Detroit Tiger Haikus

by Gary Gillette

Detroit Tigers Haiku No. 1

Legless catchers spawn
Famously angry peaches.
Hay market/Hey, Michigan!

Detroit Tigers Haiku No. 2

Wahoo Sam divides
Matty Mac from Cobb the Peach.
The loon shrieks “Ee-yah.”

Detroit Tigers Haiku No. 3

Hank’s Hebrew hammer
Batters crystal hatred…knocked
To green fields beyond.

Posted 4/25/08