Designated Hurter

by James Finn Garner

(Title by Jim Siergey)

Eloy’s a natural hitter,
Chitown’s best since Sammy

If Eloy’s swings were music,
He’d be a shoe-in for a Grammy

When he steps into the batters box
Sox fans’ palms get clammy

‘Cuz Eloy’s smart as a Labrador
And has stale breadsticks for hammies.

 

The Tigers (for William Blake and Willie Hernández)

by Ron Riekki

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright, (due to all the stadium lights)
In the forests of the night; (as that’s what turf grass looks like)
What immortal hand or eye, (like Kaline, Al, and Cobb, Ty)
Could frame they fearful symmetry? (but Fleer and Topps will always try)

In the distant deeps and skies of Palmer,
I’d play baseball to keep me calmer
and it was the same with my father,

he was fatherless, except on the diamond,
where coaches turned us into pitchers and linemen
and point guards and goalies in a town of mining,

where we’d forget about hematite and iron ore
in the bliss of 1945 and 1984,

and 1935 and 1968,
the years where all we did was celebrate,

like both the sky and our insides were bright as uranium
and in 2022, as a vet, they honored me at the stadium

and Detroit Tigers, you are always burning bright
in the forests of the night

and I held my hand to my heart that night
where I got to feel what being honored is like.

Thank you, Detroit Tigers.
Thank you.

Ron Riekki’s books include Blood/Not Blood Then the Gates (Middle West Press), My Ancestors are Reindeer Herders and I Am Melting in Extinction (Apprentice House Press), Posttraumatic (Hoot ‘n’ Waddle), and U.P. (Ghost Road Press). Right now, Riekki’s listening to Mychael Danna’s “It’s a Process” from the Moneyball film score.

Paint Me Something Pretty, Pablo

by James Callan

“Welcome to Miami”
As Will Smith sings
Or sung, in 1997
Back when Ken Griffey Jr. was the best

But now it’s you, Luis
And while you are not Judge
At the plate, you judge better than any other.
You slap the ball around like King Richard, like the Prince of Bel-Air at the Oscars.

Welcome to Miami.
All rise for Arráez.
And Mr. López. Oh, Pablo?
You best be a Picasso on that mound
‘Cause honey, the Twins just parted ways with a diva.
Minnie, she just took a gamble on your fire.

So bring it, Señor López
Paint me a Picasso, Pablo.
And make it prettier than Portrait of Dora Maar
Make it prettier than a nice shiny batting average.
Make some art, Pablo.
Paint me a World Championship.

 

James Callan grew up in Minneapolis. He lives on the Kāpiti Coast, New Zealand and is more than likely the biggest Twins baseball fan in the country. He lives on a small farm with his wife Rachel and his little boy Finn.

 

Old-School Reps

by James Finn Garner

I don’t think the new analytics
Would’ve helped Norm Cash worth a lick
For Killebrew, Mantle,
F. Robby and Randle,
A beer and a cig did the trick.