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


Adios, Jimmy

by the Village Elliott

For Jimmy Piersall (11/14/1929 – 6/4/2017)

Jimmy Piersall today passed away
Childhood hero had own style of play
My first glove bore his name
Tried to play game the same
With his glove, learned to field Jimmy’s way.

Jimmy played with unique sense of pride,
Until by his pride Piersall was fried.
After treated with shocks
Rapped with Harry, White Sox,
Only sane man on air, certified.

 



Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “With God on Cards’ Side”

By the Village Elliott

Oh, my game, it is baseball.
My home team’s the best,
The team that I root for,
Once league’s furthest west;
I’s taught and brought up where
Redbird fans reside,
Learn the St. Louis Cardinals
Have God on our side.

Learned the game from my father,
Local fan till last day.
Taught me, “Watch your team play, son,
Play the game the right way.”
Watched, rooted, and studied,
Played with own inner pride,
Like I learned as a Cards’ fan
With God on our side.

Have own Hall of Fame Roster
Bat with Redbirds on chest
Diz and Gibby hurled high heat
“Stan the Man’s” still our best
Slats, Pepper, Brock, Cha Cha
Curt Flood’s on-/off-field pride.
My team’s greats played the game right
With God on their side.

I attended first series,
Damn Yanks, ’64.
Teams split the first six games,
Each must win one game more.
Sat with Dad in the bleachers,
Where Mick’s last tater flied.
Final out celebrated
With God on our side.

Beat Damn Yanks for first title.
Old Pete was the gent,
Soon Lou and Babe payback,
In four games Cards are spent.
Split next two, early ’40s,
Wounded Damn Yankees’ pride,
Then they start counting dead boys
With God on their side.

After Second World War, boys,
BoSox dream Cards upend.
Later “Lonborg’s Champagne”
Drink “Impossible’s” end,
But post-Y2K,
Big Papi’s, Sox pride
Twice repay the Redbirds
With God on their side.

Oh, the record book tells it,
It tells it so well:



Bob Dylan’s 2017 Forecast: “Sale, Baby, Sale”

by James Finn Garner

Sale, baby, Sale
Flail at the heat he’s gonna bring
Sale, baby, Sale
Pitch the Sox to a Series ring

Don’t care that Fenway’s a hitters’ park
Dave Dombrowski’s set to make his mark
Lots of lefties pitching for this team
Lots of taters hit into the green

Sale, baby, Sale
Flail at the heat he’s gonna bring
Sale, baby, Sale
Pitch the Sox to a Series ring

With Benintendi, Bogaerts, Mookie Betts,
Faithful bean-eaters might forget
That choke in Cleveland in the first round
They’ll still come out–big college town

Sale, baby, Sale
Flail at the heat he’s gonna bring
Sale, baby, Sale
Pitch the Sox to a Series ring

 



Poetic Legacy

by the Village Elliott

For the 2016 World Champion Chicago Cubs

Yo, Chief, start Trib’s presses!
Our Extra expresses
Best headline since “Dewey Has Won!”
Lead with, “Cubs Now the Bride
After Hundred-Year Schneid:
Scapegoat Exorcised with Gonfalon.”

Yes, the Cubs exorcised
Longest World Series schneid
With a young team of great destiny,
But it’s happened before,
“Destined” youths win no more,
Team grows old, earns “Not Quite” legacy.

I read: “Said Connie Mack,
When Al Simmons came back
The year after won first bat title:
‘To be true champion
You must win second one,
Defending your title, that’s vital.’

“‘I believe that I shall,’
Replied Bucket-foot Al,
And, indeed, as bat champ, did repeat . . .”
So what Cubbies must do,
Is win Crown Number Two,
Snatching title from series defeat,

Would be “great champion”
If Cubs win second one
By repeating most poetically:
Since in Theo both trust,
Seems to me Cubbies must
Defeat Red Sox to seal Legacy.

 



Requiescat in Pace, Red Sox

by Stephen Jones

Wha’happened, Red Sox Nation?
Cleveland was more resilient,
That’s what — and even with
A banged-up rotation.

So, no late-inning magic —
No Big Papi and his swinging stick.
In fact, the Boston bats mostly were
A disappearing act.

Funny, how it goes —
how the regular season crescendo
Can go out the postseason window,
When one team’s hot
And the other is not.

 

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