Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Poor Timmy! Zonked by a double whammy
When he chose to throw hands with Joe Rami.
First Jose’s right hook
Left him cold as a chinook
And on the way down he twisted both hammies!
(Not really, but admit it, Sox fans — you still felt compelled to double-check.)
It’s July Sale Days with the New York Mets!
Come on down — it’s as good as it gets!
Robertson, closer (we call him Dave),
So many games for you he’ll save!
Look under the hood of our starter Max,
Good despite mileage, and that’s a fact!
Everybody wants a Tommy Pham!
(Sorry, Chisox, no warranty on hams)
Verlander’s on his second career–
Try for a third? You’ll find him here!
Crazy Billy Eppler’s ready to trade!
Start planning your World Series Parade!
The burden of hard hitting. Slug away
.  Like Honus Wagner or like Tyrus Cobb.
Else fandom shouteth: “Who said you could play?
.  Back to the jasper league, you minor slob!”
.  Swat, hit, connect, line out, get on the job.
Else you shall feel the brunt of fandom’s ire
.  Biff, bang it, clout it, hit it on the knob –
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of good pitching. Curved or straight.
.  Or in or out, or haply up or down,
To puzzle him that standeth by the plate,
.  To lessen, so to speak, his bat-renown:
.  Like Christy Mathewson or Miner Brown,
So pitch that every man can but admire
.  And offer you the freedom of the town –
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of loud cheering. O the sounds!
.  The tumult and the shouting from the throats
Of forty thousand at the Polo Grounds
.  Sitting, ay, standing sans their hats and coats.
.  A mighty cheer that possibly denotes
That Cub or Pirate fat is in the fire;
.  Or, as H. James would say, We’ve got their goats –
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of a pennant. O the hope,
.  The tenuous hope, the hope that’s half a fear,
The lengthy season and the boundless dope,
.  And the bromidic, “Wait until next year.”
.  O dread disgrace of trailing in the rear,
O Piece of Bunting, flying high and higher
.  That next October it shall flutter here:
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
ENVOY
Ah, Fans, let not the Quarry but the Chase
.  Be that to which most fondly we aspire!
For us not Stake, but Game; not Goal, but Race –
.  THIS is the end of every fan’s desire.
Emannuel Clase
Is certainly not blase
About playing in the All-Star Game
And getting autographs from all the big names.
Juan Soto
Sank all his money in Photo-
Mats. He’d be wiser
To find a new investment adviser.
Corey Seager
Is always eager
To discuss chemtrails.
For clearing a room, it never fails.
Josh Jung
Once stuck his tongue
To a pole in mid-winter
But was in no danger in San Jacinto.
I don’t think I was a genius
by any objective measurement,
but it wasn’t hard to seem like one
compared to most of the other owners,
who considered attendance at the games
to be the fans’ religious obligation
My treating baseball as a business
that had to attract its customers
with a good product and fun at the park
was derided as heresy
(though many of my ideas were soon copied)
And that wasn’t their only resort to mystical nonsense:
they first fought, and then severely limited, night games
Just imagine:
running a business whose hours of operation
(set by you)
preclude the vast majority of customers
from patronizing your business.
