Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
How many chances will Melky get
To try and make us forget?
Once a prospect,
Now he’s not.
As leadoff man,
He ain’t so hot.
Where’s the power he used to show?
Where’s the speed?
Why can’t he throw?
K.C. may be the last stop.
When will the penny drop?
By Stuart Shea
CHICAGO WHITE SOX
Will Morel mushroom
into a good third baseman
Or just become waste?
CLEVELAND INDIANS
Um…Jack Hannanan?
In the lineup? At third base?
It’s not April 1.
DETROIT TIGERS
The Tigers, a team
of 25 question marks.
A growl? A meow?
KANSAS CITY ROYALS
Ending up with Jeff
Francoeur…that’s a real bad day
At the rummage sale.
MINNESOTA TWINS
If he keeps winning,
Carl Pavano can look like
A porn star all year.
By Gary Gillette
In honor of broadcaster Mario Impemba who, during the April 12 Tigers broadcast, talked about how Royals skipper Trey Hillman had managed the “Ham Fighters”…
.
Nippon Ham Fighters!
WTF? Americans
Fear Pugnacious Pork.
.
Posted 4/29/10
By Stuart Shea
WHITE SOX
A Putz in the ‘pen,
Another in the dugout,
Not just birds Twitter.
.
INDIANS
No more wedge issues.
It’s time to see just how good
This ballclub can be.
.
TIGERS
A brand new springtime?
Whatchoo talkin’ bout, Willis?
This is your autumn.
.
ROYALS
Inevitable
As tulips and tree pollen,
95 losses.
.
TWINS
Mauer power is
Ensured for many more moons
In the new playpen.
Posted 4/11/2009
by Dan Quisenberry (KC Royals, 1979-1988)
.
that first baseball card I saw myself
in a triage of rookies
atop the bodies
that made the hill
we played king of
I am the older one
the one on the right
game-face sincere
long red hair unkempt
a symbol of the ’70s
somehow a sign of manhood
you don’t see
how my knees shook on my debut
or my desperation to make it
the second one I look boyish with a gap-toothed smile
the smile of a guy who has it his way
expects it
I rode the wave’s crest
of pennant and trophies
I sat relaxed with one thought
“I can do this”
you don’t see
me stay up till two
reining in nerves
or post-game hands that shook involuntarily
glory years catch action shots
arm whips and body contortions
a human catapult
the backs of those cards
cite numbers
that tell stories of saves, wins, flags, records
handshakes, butt slaps, celebration mobs
you can’t see
the cost of winning
lines on my forehead under the hat
trench line between my eyes
you don’t see my wife, daughter and son
left behind
the last few cards
I do not smile
I grim-face the camera
tight lipped
no more forced poses to win fans
eyes squint
scanning distance
crow’s-feet turn into eagle’s claws
you don’t see
the quiver in my heart
knowledge that it is over
just playing out the end
I look back
at who I thought I was
or used to be
now, trying to be funny
I tell folks
I used to be famous
I used to be good
they say
we thought you were bigger
I say
I was
.
Published 9/2/2009