by Stuart Shea
Can the Sox play tough?
White indicates purity…
Are dirty suits allowed?
If only Swisher
Struck out more often…but then,
Truth ain’t poetry.
The old roar is gone…
No more sneaking cigarettes.
It’s a young man’s turn.
It is difficult
To keep from strangling youth with
Mauer ain’t sour,
He’s heretofore banished from
Those bad Twins hurlers.
by James Finn Garner
There is no joy in Bro-hio
As Tribe and Reds are shown the door.
Both teams vying for the Wild Card
But reality hit ‘em good and hard.
The Rays, always, a resourceful crew,
And Pittsburgh, you must admit, is due.
An I-71 Series is just a dream
If Dusty Baker helms your team.
With Nick Swisher on the roster,
October glory is hard to foster.
Next March it all begins anew
When balls start smacking into Chin-Soo Choo.
by Susan Petrone
I’ve never been much for numbers, I’ve always preferred words.
Fractions, sets, and integers lose out to nouns and verbs.
But this time of year I find myself in a mathematical dance
Trying hard to calculate the Indians’ playoff chance.
If KC can beat Detroit, the Tigers drop a game
But that won’t help us out at all ‘cuz then the Royals gain.
If the Twins can beat the A’s (and there’s frost in hell),
We’ll move up in the Wild Card and that would be just swell.
Percentage-wise, our playoff chance is not quite one in five
(Okay, nineteen point three percent in sabermetic jive).
That’s down from Wednesday but up from last week so it’s not a tragedy.
Overall our chances show a slight upward traject’ry.
All this talk about the odds and match-ups and the rest
Doesn’t address the simplest solution that’s the best:
Just have the Tribe win every game in a run-inducing flurry,
I’ll buy my playoff tix and leave the other teams to worry.
Susan Petrone regularly posts on the Indians at It’s Pronounced Lajaway.
by Susan Petrone
Friday’s game against the Twins was one I really hoped we’d win
I figured it might be a fight. The Twins aren’t great, but they don’t bite.
Of course the question from word go was which Ubaldo J. would show.
The guy with the electric slider, or the one who makes you drink hard cider?
Top of one, bases full, no outs; it looked like it would be a rout.
Struck out the side, never fear–the Good Ubaldo J. was here!
Ten big strikeouts, holy crap! Too bad the offense took a nap.
The score read four walks, six hits, and one stinking run to show for it.
Final score was five to one. This is not what you’d call fun.
At losing we are quite adroit, unlike those guys up in Detroit.
Tigers won, so did the Rays. I hope the Orioles beat the A’s.
If it isn’t too pretentious, check the odds at Baseball Prospectus.
We may yet play into October, (yes, THIS October and yes, I’m sober).
Thus I’ll wait to drown my sorrows. Let’s see if they win tomorrow.
Susan Petrone blogs about the Tribe at the site, It’s Pronounced Lajaway.
by Bob Carlton
heal of the glove