Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Writing poetry gave me a different satisfaction
than what playing baseball provided me
The biggest difference, interestingly enough,
was that, the lower the stakes,
the more power the critics had:
no amount of their vitriol
could take a save away from me
or change any game’s result,
unlike in poetry
The season is done, the jocks are stored
Only two teams are left on the board
Let’s pause now, while for Friday we wait,
And salute the retirements of a few greats.
Pujols hit his 700th for the Cards
And now will have time to work on his yard.
Bosox and Cubs champ Jon Lester
Now is an official hammock tester.
Music lover Kurt Suzuki
Can learn the banjo or bouzouki
After the majors, Ádrian González played on
But after this year, A-Gon done gone.
Melky Cabrera, the man and the myth,
Will star in community theater: “The Melkman Cometh.”
And if anyone’s looking for J.A. Happ,
He’s out on the patio, taking a nap.
In the Midwest we’re not prone to bragging
We like socks with sandals and double-bagging
We like a 30-pack and jerky from Kasey’s
And are still suspicious of Macy’s.
We don’t get too big for our britches
Unless the subject is hot dishes.
We take our time reaching decisions
And are in no rush to win the division.
What’s up with your team, Kansas City?
TEN players not vaxxed, what a pity!
Playing the Jays
Now needs scrubs and strays
The toll of ignorance isn’t pretty.