by James Finn Garner
Before the Fall gets underway,
Let us doff our caps and say
Goodbye to those who’ll junk their cleats,
Leave the park and walk the streets.
Super-versatile Angel Chone
Will now be the utility man at home.
Grant Balfour, hothead Aussie,
Can only fume when his wife gets bossy.
Phil Humber’s vaunted perfect game
Was his sole stat worth noting (such a shame).
The Prince has trouble with his neck–
He’ll inspire no more fear on-deck.
Tex and A-Rod will leave the Yanks
And all their fans will mumble thanks,
While Raf Soriano has called an end
To tell war stories, a fine fireman.
But let’s not forget the other guys,
Young tyros once, with starry eyes,
Who gave their all but somehow missed
The general manager’s call-up list.
They’re just as key to the game as any
Adam LaRoche or Brad Penny.
Talent, drive and dreams they bid,
Just like us when we were kids.
by Monica Deree
With the Royals in need
the universe responded
thus the Rally Mantis was born.
A beautiful gift
for this suffering team
bringing eighteen wins in his wake.
But now he’s retired
the Royals’ season is over,
and the World Series will see new blood.
No matter what anyone says–
Denies ever sharing a tanning booth
With Dr. Ruth.
Is fond of the movies,
Especially those that feature
Sulks and pouts.
As the sole Angel, he doesn’t get very far
With his funny imitation of Yunel Escobar.
Has always been so pissed
At being last alphabetically
That he takes his revenge athletically.
By James Finn Garner
On this beautiful summer day in June
The Royals rise and the White Sox swoon
The Astros still dream of their trip to the moon
The Red Sox hope they aren’t peaking too soon
While the Yanks obsess over things picayune
The Rangers and Jays field their share of goons
Tampa ponders a move to Saskatoon. . .
And Epstein’s still the smartest guy in the room.
by Stephen Jones
Noah Syndergaard stormed ashore
Like a grim Viking ancestor.
He drew out a sword of destiny —
His unheard of slider of no pity —
And unleashed it on poor KC.