Browse all poems and songs in the 'Boston Red Sox' Category


The Wreck of the Boston Red Sox

by HoraceClark66

The legend lives on
From the Bambino on down
Of the team that folds like a patsy
The Fens, it said,
Always throws up its dead
When the winds of November come early

The Sox were the pride
Of the MLB side
With a team that was certain to win it
A roster so sweet
That they let the boys cheat
And said scarcely a word ag’in it

They had Sale on the mound
And Price who would pound
Any old man who dared to offend him
And Porcello who
You knew would come through
And too many others to mention

The outfield was young
Their praises were sung
Above all the Babe Benintendi
They did a cute dance
And around they would prance
When the team it won so bigly

They were handed the East
Which was the least
MLB could do for their story
Then they’d run through the ‘Stros
And the bows and arrows
And go straight to the Series and glory

But Nuni’s knee gave
Then their main Sale caved
And the Olde Towne Team was hurtin’
Then Pomeranz fell
And Kimbrel went to hell
And another big choke, it was lurkin’

Does any man know
Where the love of God goes
When the hits turn the innings to hours?



Neil Diamond Gem

by James Finn Garner

I adore the playoffs
When the season’s on the line
Mistakes a bit more tragic
Nice plays near divine
Veterans get one last lap
And rookies get to shine
I only wish they hadn’t made me
Hate “Sweet Caroline”

 



How Cleveland Ended Baseball

by James Finn Garner

“Grandpa, tell me once again
How the Tribe could never lose.”
“Well, kid, in August of ’17
They was playing good, quick and loose,

“When the Boston Carmines came to town–
A purt good team, or so I heard–
Bauer climbed upon the mound
And crikey, a miracle occurred!

“Might’ve been magic, or a curse,
Or blasted divine intervention
But they plum forgot how to lose.
Game in, game out, no apprehension,

“The Tribe just kept on winning!
Like the sun a-rising in the east
When come the final inning,
Francona’s boys just rose like yeast.

“It’s been 15 years or more, I reckon,
Since that team has notched an L.
Never trailing nor choking for a second,
From first of March to closing bell.”

“Grandpa, what about the other teams?”
“They just broke up, one by one.
No league no more, because it seems
With no fair chance, the game ain’t no fun.”

 



I Am Some Body!

by Jim Siergey

O, how I wish Destiny put
As catcher, one day, Barry Foote
While on the mound lands
The hurler Bill Hands
I’d pay an arm and a leg to see that

The bullpen is aptly in place
With perfectly named Elroy Face
As one last zinger
We add Rollie Fingers
With Heinie Manush up to bat

As he comes to the plate, there’s a buzz,
The one man with the name to give pause,
Each syllable clear-
Ly a body part dear:
Here comes man-of-parts Tony Armas!

 



How Do You Like Them Apple Watches?

by Michael X. Ferraro

The Yankees are p.o.’d as heck
At the way the Red Sox use tech.
It’s plain wrong to steal signs
Using Interweb vines!
Or is it? asks Bill Belichick.

 

Michael X. Ferraro has gotten paid to come up with nicknames for Shaquille O’Neal, write sports rants for Dennis Miller, and generate outrageous tabloid fodder for the Weekly World News, among other, much crappier jobs. Check out his hilarious football satire, Circus Catch. 

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.