By David Aretha
The Tigers can hit
And everyone knows it,
Yet it don’t mean a thing
When the bullpen can’t close it.
Detroiters may reign
As kings of the Central,
But they’ll never go farther
When the bullpen is mental.
Valverde chugged water,
Swirled and spit,
And then he’d cough up
The game-winning hit.
Benoit filled in nicely,
But then he got sloppy,
Serving a granny
To the mighty Big Papi.
“We need a sure thing;
Get Nathan, doggone it.”
But his heater ain’t working;
He’s got nothing on it.
Dombrowski’s a genius;
Stole J.D. from the ’Stros,
But because of their bullpen,
They got swept by the O’s.
I’d deal to the Devil
If only he’d trade me
by Stephen Jones
Four-game home streak snapped
Throwback unies didn’t work
Detroit won the game
by James Finn Garner
For the benefit of Mister I
The Tiges will give another try
At a Series ring
In the race four times before
Then they’re always shown the door
Damn, it stings
. But with Cabrera and two Martinez
. The hits should still be raining in Motown
. If God wills, Alex Avila doesn’t get hurt
Yeah, Max Scherzer hit the road
The Nationals can bear that load
(He will be missed)
David Price might have the stuff
But does the bullpen have enough?
Let’s check the list:
. Phil Coke is gone, and Rick Porcello,
. Which leaves Soria, Albuquerque and Nathan
. Climbing higher? Dumpster fire? Who the hell knows?
Castellanos will be there
We’ll marvel at Cespedes’ flair
In center field
Ian Kinsler leaps and spins
Let’s hope Iglesias’ pins
Have really healed
. Twisting the government ’round his fingers
. Is not enough for Detroit’s pizza king
. Which is why Mister I keeps spending his dough….
by Millie Bovich
Some managers spit pumpkin seeds in innings bad or fine,
Some managers come out to chat and won’t step on a line.
Some hitters crowd the batter’s box and twirl their bats on high,
Some batters take a too-close pitch and watch the beaut go by.
Some batters readjust their gloves, then readjust once more,
Then smack the whirling sphere into the parking lot next door.
Some fans will smother up their dogs, while some will eat them plain.
Some fans will watch in blazing sun, some gladly sit in rain.
Some fans will need a beer or three to quench a burning thirst.
Some runners just drink Gatorade when they slide into first.
Some pitchers work a snail’s pace and roam around the mound,
Then wind and throw a perfect strike that makes a sizzling sound.
Some unexpected umpire call will cause the fans to yell
That the authority in question should find his way to hell.
Some rookie out in center field will punch his well worn glove,
Then make a catch spectac’lar that the fans in stands will love.
Some fans will make excuses just to be there Opening Day.
It’s spring again, and time to watch the “boys of summer” play!
And the Tigers’ Ernie Harwell would begin the year the same
With a quote we’ve heard a thousand times before he starts the game.
“The Rose of Sharon blooms again”, ’cause spring is something grand,
“And the voice of the turtle will be heard in the land.”
Millie Bovich may be the oldest fan and contributor to Bardball. “I had the pleasure of meeting All-Star Johnny Pesky when he visited the Detroit office of the FBI where I worked,” she writes, “and met and married a special agent from New York and made a Tigers fan out of him!”
by James Finn Garner
Rendon, Rodon and Rondon
Were drinking beers one day
Their waitress Babs then served the tab
But couldn’t get it paid
For Rendon tore his tendon
When reaching for his dough
And the harlots down in Charlotte
Had left Rodon with diddly-oh
Rondon’s wing was in a sling
His back pocket much too far
So poor old Babs had to eat the tab
And banned them from her bar