Ossie Vitt

by Michael Ceraolo

I understand there’s a brain injury
that even today can only be detected
after death in an autopsy
I was in collisions at the plate,
and a Walter Johnson curveball beaned me
and knocked me out for several minutes;
if it had been a fastball I would have been killed
(I’m sure some of the Indians wish I had been)
Was it a brain injury, or the times,
that shaped my management style?
At this late date we’ll never know

Ken Keltner

The worst mistake I ever made
was to file for unemployment in the offseason,
something that seemed like a good idea at the time
but was much less so once we sobered up,
and I deserved all the abuse I took for it
What was not a mistake was being one of the players
who went to the owner asking for Vitt to be fired
We didn’t deserve his abuse,
and we didn’t deserve the abuse
from fans and sportswriters

Mel Harder

Being the longest-tenured Indian,
I was the leader of the group
that went to Mr. Bradley and asked his to fire Vitt
We were called Crybabies then and for years afterward,
but I’ll always believe we were right:
Vitt didn’t know how to treat people
He was never hired again
as manager of a major-league team

 

AL Cannibalism de Facto?

by Stephen Jones

Let’s just say
The season ended today
And the Yankees won the division…
That’s a no-brainer, a win-loss given.

But what about the rest
Of the hungry AL East —
Those Red Sox and Rays,
Those Orioles and Blue Jays?
Like it or not, three of these beasts
Rule the AL’s wild-card menu.

But hey, that’s a speculative dream,
Maybe a thought in the extreme.
It’s more likely than not
That these baseball carnivores —
Forget here any herbivores —
Will actively consume each other
In the AL East’s cannibal-diner.

 

Houston Brings Winter to Boston, Win ALCS

by Stephen Jones

A weatherman on Beantown TV
Described it this way:
“You start here,” a flat hand
measuring height in the air.
“This is chilly. Okay?
Then you drop it to here.
This is freezing,
Just thirty-two degrees.”
He went on: “But it gets colder,
Down here…”
He ducked below the camera eye.
“… Is zero, and it’s so cold …
You freeze fruit and it shatters.
But there’s one more level …”
He looked the camera in the eye.
“… Colder still: Red Sox hitting.”