by Hilary Barta
Detroit’s pitching seems iffy, not trusty.
Their hitting, once spiffy, looks rusty.
Are the Giants that loose?
Is it Tigers’ disuse,
Motown’s dugout a little bit musty?
World Series, Game 1
by Stephen Jones
The San Francisco Giants seem like
they’re on a mission. Rawhide glove
& bat – they are owning a ball park tonight,
no matter what Detroit brings.
Spence and Cain and It Looks Like Rain
by James Finn Garner
Hunter Pence showed how it’s done
Hitting three times instead of one
Earning a futile “Whazz-muh–?”
From an addled Peter Kozma.
And from the mound, young Matt Cain
Gave the Cards a Giant pain.
The contest called by Buster Posey
Came up smelling like a rosey.
So it’s the Coasts, both West and Third.
No more miracles for the Birds.
Plus, TV watchers praise their luck:
Coitus interruptus for McCarver and Buck.
Ode to the A’s
by James Finn Garner
In the other City by the Bay
(The less pretentious of the pair),
The miracle of the Oakland A’s
Has vanished in the morning air.
The pennant proved a will o’ the wisp
For those crazy upstart sons of bitches,
From goat-hero-goat Coco Crisp
To Jarrod Parker of the wild pitches.
How thrilling they were to fans and strangers,
Their chartreuse die-hards blowing gaskets.
For knocking out the wheezing Rangers,
Detroit should send a nice fruit basket.
Pennants, they showed, are earned, not bought.
If Oakland’s not your next year’s pick,
I’ll leave you with this food for thought:
Cespedes is but 26.
The Ofers
by James Finn Garner
To diagnose the Yankees’ ills,
Don’t sacrifice a gopher
And scan for signs in its entrails —
The problem is the ofers.
Infante was tattooed, not tagged.
The call at second wasn’t kosher
But potential outrage only dragged
Down this lineup full of ofers.
Beyond JV, the Tiges ain’t sound —
Hell, they’re staying with their “closer”! —
But slow-pitch softball might confound
This Murderer’s Row of ofers.
Get ready for a shopping spree
When the season’s mercifully over.
A blind man’s dog throws up to see
This lousy bunch of ofers.