Pronk
by Hart Seely
Jesus Christ: You like him? Honk!
Lindsay Lohan? Fall-down dronk,
Johnny Rotten: Eighties ponk,
Travis Hafner: Our man Pronk!
Kim Kardashian: Kanye’s bonk,
Paris Hilton: What a skonk!
Oscar winner: Hilary Swonk,
Travis Hafner, New York Yonk.
Mariano Rivera
by Stephen Jones
At 43 he’s ageless . . .
maybe better than he was.
He finished this April as always –
efficiently closing the door.
(In April his pinpoint cutter
made him reach ten for ten.)
He says this is the last year
he’ll be a Yankee closer.
(And how many lefties are relieved
he’s hanging up the buzz saw
which left their bats in splinters?)
One wants him to go on forever –
that’s the lore of baseball –
and he does, The Pinstripe Closer
who never once showed fear.
The Eve of Destruction, Yankee-Style
by Hart Seely
The AL East, it is exploding,
Tampa flarin’, Toronto loadin.’
Your stopper is so old, his slider’s floatin’
You don’t believe in waste, yet Vernon Wells you’re totin,’
And even the Captain’s ankle still aint stopped bloatin’…
But you tell me…
Over and over and over again, my friend
We’re not totally whacked…
By A-Rod’s pact…
Of Destruction.
Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say?
Can’t you see the lineup starring Lyle Overbay?
If Robbie tweaks a hammy, there’ll be no one to play,
We’ll have run out of tricks, we’ll be using Jason Nix
Take a look around ya, pal!
It’s bound to scare ya, Hal!
And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
We’re not in the grip…
Of A-Rod’s hip
Reconstruction.
Yeah, my blood’s so mad feels like coagulatin’
I’m sitting here, still Michael Pineda-waitin,’
I’m lookin’ at this team, I see no domination.
Damn Youkilis at third, there is no explanation!
And David Phelps alone can’t save our rotation
When even the Scranton roster is disintegratin’
This whole Cashman death wish thing is just too frustratin!’
And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
We’re not under the wheel
Of A-Rod’s deal…
Of de-struk-shuuuuuuun.
Opening Day – Yankee Stadium
by Stephen Jones
The Yankees are tattered –
already players are missing.
Jeter, Teixeira, Hughes,
Granderson . . . and A-Rod
(a “no show” already despite
his $27 million paycheck).
Still, it’s Opening Day.
The sun is bright, the field
manicured and green. The crowd
is excited and passionate.
The first crack of the bat christens
Opening Day as timeless.
Cubs Ball
by Hilary Barta
There’s the ball for a buck they call “money”
On the cheap it buys clover and honey
. Then there’s Yankee outspending
. Which can bank happy ending(s)
What the Cubs buy just sucks and ain’t funny
The long-suffering Hilary Barta blogs limericks every day at his site LimerWrecks.
