O Crap
by Stu Shea
Though their legacy is royal and their ballpark always fine,
It’s been a rocky season for the Baltimore nine.
Their loudest fan passed away, the manager was fired,
And even longtime fans are getting tired.
Drug rumors dog the clubhouse; they lost 30-3;
And they’ve been no-hit by a Red Sox rookie.
One more losing year and small crowds at the park,
This franchise walks, blindfolded, in the dark.
As long as Peter Angelos renews his owner’s plates,
The devastation won’t abate.
Posted 10/4/07
An Ode to Wild Bill Hagy (1938-2007)
By Stuart Shea
Wild Bill Hagy was an Orioles fan,
Looked like most any other big man,
Belly hanging low over loose blue jeans,
Full of cold beer and likewise of beans.
Back in the days ‘fore Camden Yards,
When the orange-clad O’s held all the cards,
Wild Bill Hagy was a half-crazed horse
Who pawed his ground as a cheerleading force.
He stood on the dugout during each game
And spelled out “Orioles” with his mighty frame.
Every O’s fan from near and far
Watched Wild Bill—he became a star.
The years rolled on and the O’s declined,
They left Memorial for a new state of mind.
Hagy didn’t lead cheers at the new park,
The team’s new owners didn’t like that spark.
And now he’s gone, though memories hold,
Of the glorious days of Orioles old,
Of Weaver and Murray, Palmer and Cal,
Dempsey, Roenicke, Pat Kelly, and Al.
Gimme an H!
Gimme an A!
Gimme a G!
Gimme a Y!
What’s that spell?
Posted 8/29/2007
Texas Flood
by James Finn Garner
Thirty runs hath the Rangers,
To whom before big games were strangers.
The Orioles ‘pen came out to play
And gave a goose to their ERA.
Saltalamacchia swung his stick
and helped his average 83 clicks.
“Too bad,” the moms of O’s might mewl,
“The bigs don’t have a slaughter rule.”
Posted 8/24/2007
