Browse all poems and songs in the 'New York Yankees' Category

Baby Bomber Gary Sanchez

by Stephen Jones

A pinstripe dream start
8 home runs in two weeks’ time
Most in MLB


You’re Gonna Miss Alex Rodriguez

by James Finn Garner

As the end of his playing days appears,
I need to ask: Whither A-Rod?
There’ll be no other player left at his tier
On whose neck you can gleefully trod.

No gaffes to rehash, no mistakes to cheer,
No insinuations on his bod,
No schadenfreude thoughts to slur in your beer
That he’s a bum, a starlet, a fraud.

You won’t see Alex this time next year,
And the absence you’ll feel will be odd
Til you choose someone else, with your conscience so clear,
And condemn him like an Old Testament God.



by Stephen Jones

The trade deadline has
Come and gone. The smoke
Of the firesale has cleared.

And it’s hard to believe:
“Pinstripes” and “seller”
In the same sentence.

But for once, the Yankees
Thought of the future,
Not some gaudy names
Soon for the pasture.

At least that’s what I
Tell myself, as I
See this season
Put away, on the shelf.


Yankee Fan Rationale

by Stephen Jones

Hey, Aroldis Chapman —
What gives?
You’re a Pinstriper one day,
And a Cub the next?
(A pause. Then a sigh.)
Too bad. Nice arm.
We hardly knew ya . . .
But whadda ya gonna do?
It’s a relievers’ market.


Yankee Lineup Shakeup

by Stephen Jones

Right now, A-Rod and right handers don’t mix.
Right now, when he bats, it’s swing, miss . . . nix.
So, he’s chillin’ and sittin’ on the pines,
Girardi looks to players past their prime,
And the fan faithful wonders aloud:
If the team mantra is age before hitting,
Then A-Rod is right: Go with sitting.


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Extra Innings

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Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.