Browse all poems and songs in the 'Cleveland Indians' Category

Deke of The Week

by Michael X. Ferraro

There is no base coach at second.
Otherwise, Kipnis may’ve reckoned
that Jeter’s feigned catch was deceit
to get him to slide on his seat.
But doubled off first, he got burned
with a bitter life lesson learned:
Always keep your eye on the ball–
Not the guy who’s stamped for the Hall.

Here’s a video of Derek Jeter’s play at second that confused Jason Kipnis on Monday. Heh heh.

The Jinx is Not In

by Susan Petrone

There’s something I want to talk about but broach with apprehension,
For if you state the obvious, the Jinx will pay attention.

There is no monster in Lake Erie, of that you can be sure
But beware the Jinx who dwells within the salt mines off the shore.

The Cleveland Jinx is green and chunky with breath like stale burritos.
He wears flip-flops and a beer-stained jersey from Rocky Colavito.

When the team is doing poorly, you won’t see the Jinx,
There’s no fun in messing with a team that really stinks.

But when the Tribe shows signs of life and fans begin to hope,
The Jinx’s one-word answer is a loud, resounding “Nope.”

He’ll fiddle with the strike zone, the pine tar, or a mitt
And anything he thinks will stop a run-scoring base hit.

The Jinx can’t help it, it’s his job to purloin a winning streak
He lives upon our broken dreams and random bursts of pique.

So how does the Tribe fare? Of that of which we must not speak.
All that I can safely say is it’s been a hell of a good week.


Susan Patrone blogs about the Tribe at  It’s Pronounced Lajaway.

American League Central 2014 Spring Training Haiku

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
High expectations.

Mauer ain’t sour,
He’s heretofore banished from
Those bad Twins hurlers.


There is No Joy in Bro-hio

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.


Ode to a Playoff Berth

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.

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