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Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “Edwin from the North Country”

by James Finn Garner

If you’re traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the fans’ behinds
Remember him for all the hits he had there
Edwin Encarnacion did his time

If you got used to the Jays winning games
By knocking hits and flipping bats
Saunders is gone, and Navarro the same
And Edwin’s now in Cleveland, swatting gnats

I’m a-wondering if he’ll remember them at all
The fans who came to see him play
As they drink and fight and lament
Watching Melvin Upton flail away

If you’re traveling in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the fans’ behinds
Remember him for all the hits he had there
Edwin Encarnacion did his time

 

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Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “Just Like Tom Ricketts’ Blues”

by Jim Siergey

When you’re lost in the rain in Cleveland
And it’s Game Seven too
And your confidence has failed
‘Cuz your bullpen didn’t pull you through
Don’t make any more errors
Or Fate will be laughin’ at you
You got some hungry fans there
And they all bleed Cubbie Blue . . .

Now if you see J. Heyward
Please tell him thanks a lot
He could not hit
But what he did won’t be forgot
‘Cuz he built up their strength
To go out and take another shot
He was the motivatin’ factor
behind them givin’ all that they got

 

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Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “The Tribe’s Luck Ain’t A-Changin'”

by Lou Carlozo

O come all ye Clevelanders, where e’er ye may roam
And admit that another World Series was blown
Your underwear’s soiled, your soaked to the bone
And Francona’s impatiently pacing
So you better start booing, hell you’re not number one,
And the Tribe’s luck ain’t a-changin’

Oh senators, congressmen, please hear the call:
Tell Chapman to grow up, and grow him some balls!
An inning’s relief and he can’t pitch at all
He should thank God for Game 7 rainin’
It’s too bad that he’s gone, his fastball and all,
But the Tribe’s luck, it ain’t a-changin’

The curse it is gone, the Goat it is cast
(And it’s about time, ‘cuz that damn thing had gas)
While annoying Joe Buck waits for one final chance
To sing Clayton Kershaw’s sweet praises
Mow Vin Scully’s lawn, Joe, if you’re fit to do that
And the Tribe’s luck, it ain’t a-changin’

 

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To the Victors

By Millie Bovich

The team from Chicago’s North Side,
Three losses they could not abide.
Winning three in a row
With Cubbie mo-jo
And all of Ohio just cried!

Congratulations to C-H-I-C-A-G-O!

 

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Watching the World Series from Dusseldorf

by Frank Thorwirth

At 6 to 6 the game was even
Rain delay, doubt in believing.
Go to sleep while eyes shut down?
Are you kidding me, clown?
A friend from Chicago on the phone,
What the f . . . Together we moan.
The 10th with only three more outs,
And believe it or not, no more doubts,
Hours away from Chicago’s North Side,
Sitting, standing awake, still with home pride.
It’s 5:38, it’s finally fixed,
Remember MEZ means “minus six”
Now we can go for an hour to bed,
with no more bad dreams —
The curse of the goat — it’s dead!