Browse all poems and songs in the 'Chicago White Sox' Category


You Don’t Know Jackson

by James Finn Garner

Edwin Jackson
Might have some action
Left in his fastball, batters fear,

‘Cuz Baltimore signed him
His “best” years behind him
His 12th team in 14 years.

Buck, it’s a mirage–
He can’t hit a garage,
Throws as straight as a cluster of starlings.

Looks like Duquette’s
Willing to forget
His results with the Cubs and the Marlins.

And the Tigers.
And the Padres.
And the Braves.
And the White Sox.
And the Dodgers.
And probably the Pilots.

 



The Happening

by Laura Weck

I’d been scoffed and laughed at
Nearly all of my life.
Sox fans screamed in my ear:
“TWO THOUSAND AND FIVE!”

“Just relax,” folks would tell me,
“Ya know it’s just a game:
The pleasure is in watching.
The winning is only fame.”

So every year I always watched.
I laughed and boy I cried,
Religiously taking vitamins
Just in case I’d die.

I vicariously watched the Red Sox
And kept close eye on the score.
So happy was I when they took it all
Back in 2004.

Would I ever experience this pure joy,
When on the north side bells would chime?
Could a World Series ever happen here,
Preferably in my lifetime?

Throngs of people now sport Cub gear,
No longer do I feel alone
After the brilliant harvest
Theo had so thoughtfully sown.

I wonder did it really happen
It still feels a bit like a dream
I take pride in telling White Sox fans:
“TWO THOUSAND AND SIXTEEN!”

 



Adios, Jimmy

by the Village Elliott

For Jimmy Piersall (11/14/1929 – 6/4/2017)

Jimmy Piersall today passed away
Childhood hero had own style of play
My first glove bore his name
Tried to play game the same
With his glove, learned to field Jimmy’s way.

Jimmy played with unique sense of pride,
Until by his pride Piersall was fried.
After treated with shocks
Rapped with Harry, White Sox,
Only sane man on air, certified.

 



Moncada o Nada

by Jim Siergey

Rick Hahn says the White Sox have gotta
Bright star in young Yoan Moncada
He paid with Chris Sale
So prays Yo don’t fail
Or they’ll both be personas non grata.

 



Three Matching Sox

by James Finn Garner

The game’s been built of 3s
Since, like, eternity.
3 outs, 3 strikes,
3 bases and the like

Now add to these trios
Garcias who with brio
Manned the grass for the Hose.
Unlike the real bros

Matty, Felipe and Jesus–
The splendid Alous–
These Garcias don’t own
Similar chromosomes

But never in history
Has an outfield had 3
Confused when they hear
“Hey! Garcia! Get over here!”

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.