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


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!”

 



Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “Absolutely Sent Lawrie”

by Jim Siergey

Well, your baseball gait, you know you just ain’t jumpin’
Sometimes it gets too hard, you see
I’m just sittin’ here, waiting to see sum’pin
There’s just no progress in your injury
So we’re waiving you tonight, Brett Lawrie

Well, I waited for you with Adam Eaton
Yes, I waited for you with Adam Laroche
Well, I waited for you as we got beaten
When I thought Ventura would learn to coach
So we’re waiving you tonight, Brett Lawrie

Well, anybody can hurt his knee, obviously
Then again, not many hang on this long, fortunately

Some prospects are ripe way down in Charlotte
Some of them may boost White Sox esprit
It was tough trading Sale, but we’ll allow it
If Moncada is as good as he seems to be
So we’re waiving you tonight, Brett Lawrie

 



“Snack-Off” with Jose Abreu

by James Finn Garner

Things were so bad in Havana
That it ends with you havin’ a
Snack of your fake Haitian passport–
Heineken? Shoulda tried Special Export!

 

Jose Abreu testifies at the trial of the men who smuggled him to the US that he ate pages from his fake passport on the plane to Miami, washed down with a Heineken.



Sammy Sosa, the Founder of Chicago

by James Finn Garner

Leave aside the famed DuSable
Who thought he wore this feather in his cap.
We’ll forgive you this historical bobble,
Twas Sammy Sosa put Chicago on the map.

Forget Bill Thompson and Hinky Dink Kenna
Who lay the town in corruption’s lap.
They came and went, but at the center,
Twas Sammy Sosa put Chicago on the map.

Dion O’Banion and Al Capone
Made sure the suds were e’er on tap.
Those slobs can’t call this town their own–
Twas Sammy Sosa put Chicago on the map.

Sure, Sandburg, Bellow, Studs could write,
Curtis Mayfield was a soulful chap,
Muddy Waters was a man, all right,
But Sammy Sosa put Chicago on the map.

I’ll admit MJ could play some hoops.
Hack, Ernie, Big Hurt and Pudge could slap
A few hits around, but no big whoops–
Twas Sammy Sosa put Chicago on the map.

 

Sosa’s colossal ego is on full display in a recent, rare interview with former Cubs PR man Chuck Wosserstrom.



Autumn’s New Retirees

by James Finn Garner

Before the Fall gets underway,
Let us doff our caps and say
Goodbye to those who’ll junk their cleats,
Leave the park and walk the streets.

Super-versatile Angel Chone
Will now be the utility man at home.
Grant Balfour, hothead Aussie,
Can only fume when his wife gets bossy.

Phil Humber’s vaunted perfect game
Was his sole stat worth noting (such a shame).
The Prince has trouble with his neck–
He’ll inspire no more fear on-deck.

Tex and A-Rod will leave the Yanks
And all their fans will mumble thanks,
While Raf Soriano has called an end
To tell war stories, a fine fireman.

But let’s not forget the other guys,
Young tyros once, with starry eyes,
Who gave their all but somehow missed
The general manager’s call-up list.

They’re just as key to the game as any
Adam LaRoche or Brad Penny.
Talent, drive and dreams they bid,
Just like us when we were kids.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.