Has become famos
As catcher for the Nats–
Must be the way that he squats.
Likes to golf indoors.
As dangerous as his home gets,
His kids have learned to wear helmets.
When his mind meanders
Imagines himself in toque, cape and shorts
Savior of the Great White North.
Is such a fussy eater
On every dinner date
He asks an ump to brush his plate.
by Stuart Shea
The bigger they are, the more they hurt…
So Juan Uribe got a just dessert
With a liner in the groin.
And that’s not a roll of coins,
And he’s NOT happy to see you.
By Stephen Jones
Marlon Byrd’s wings clipped
Now he’s grounded for a year
MLB warned him
by Susan Petrone
On every tree, the branches bare
No leaves, no green, no life shows there.
Every building in my sad town
Wears a snowy, slushy crown.
I know beneath the snow and cold
The earth lies dormant, patient, bold.
How I long for Spring’s arrival
and a spiritual revival.
Few sights can make you feel so grand
As the first flower to make a stand.
Nor are there words that sound so sweet
as “pitchers and catchers report this week.”
This poem originally appeared on Susan’s Indians website, It’s Pronounced Lajaway.
by Jim Siergey
He was a six-foot man
In a five-six frame
His unusual physique
Was his nickname
He hustled and he hit
And he ran like heck
An eternal fan favorite
Was little “No Neck.”