Cautionary Yankee Reality As Playoffs Loom
by Stephen Jones
One moment The Yankees set a record
three grand slams in one game
The next they fumble like dead wood
decidedly not the same
In golf drive for show
. . . but putt for dough
In baseball the axiom is the same
more often pitching wins the game
As playoffs loom strong arm Yankee batting
alone will not guaranty Yankee winning
Mantle
by William Heyen
Mantle ran so hard, they said,
he tore his legs to pieces.
What is this but spirit?
52 homers in ’56, the triple crown.
I was a high school junior, batting
fourth behind him in a dream.
I prayed for him to quit, before
his lifetime dropped below .300.
But he didn’t, and it did.
He makes Brylcreem commercials now,
models with opened mouths draped around him
as they never were in Commerce, Oklahoma,
where the sandy-haired, wide-shouldered boy
stood up against his barn,
lefty for an hour (Ruth, Gehrig),
then righty (DiMaggio),
as his father winged them in,
and the future blew toward him,
now a fastball, now a slow
curve hanging
like a model’s smile
William Heyen’s poems have appeared in over 100 periodicals. He taught English literature and creative writing at the State University of New York College at Brockport for over 30 years. He recently performed “Mantle” at the Chautauqua Festival.
The Grandy Man
by David Bellel
Who can make a team rise, make it feel like new
With flesh the hue of choc’late, he brings a miracle or two
The Grandy Man, oh the Grandy Man can
The Grandy Man can ’cause he brings a sure glove and applies good wood
One of the greatest Yank “bros,” wears his stripes with pride
Hitting big home runs while his teammates “slide”
The Grandy Man, the Grandy Man can
The Grandy Man can ’cause he brings a sure glove and applies good wood
The Grandy Man makes everything he does satisfying, not capricious
Now you talk about your childhood wishes,
Far better than Swishalicious
Oh, who can heal like Apollo, wipe away bad dreams
Separate the sorrow and both right and lefties cream
The Candy Man, oh the Candy Man can
The Grandy Man can ’cause he brings a sure glove and applies good wood
The Grandy Man makes everything he does satisfying, not capricious
Now you talk about your childhood wishes,
Far better than Swishalicious
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, who can heal like Apollo, wipe away bad dreams
Separate the sorrow and both right and lefties cream
The Candy Man, oh the Candy Man can
The Grandy Man can ’cause he brings a sure glove and applies good wood
Yes, The Grandy Man can ’cause he brings a sure glove and applies good wood-a-Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man
Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man
Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man, a-Grandy Man….
You’ll find David posting with the rest of Yankee stalwarts over at It Is High, It Is Far, It Is….Caught.
Yankee Fan Lament
by Stephen Jones
A.J. Burnett
The best we can get?
Number 2 in rotation?
Is consternation
In July he hasn’t won yet
& now he seems set
To continue in August
With confounding performance
(But he has good stuff
With used-car fluff
Chimes a hollow commentator
As if proving The Equator)
Who knows where his head’s at?
It changes with a swing of the bat
Each time he takes the mound
Each fan prays Don’t let me down
Because each time A.J. Burnett
& good stuff is an uncertain bet
Chicago, Chicago, That Toddlin’ Town
By David Bellel
Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin’ town
Those Chisox, those Chisox, they play like they’re clowns
Bet your bottom dollar even AJ could have won in Chicago, Chicago,
The town where poor Adam Dunn got shut down
On West 35th Street, that great street, I just want to say
They do things they don’t do on Broadway
Ozzie had the time, the worst time of his life
His bats went dead, unlike his hot-looking wife
In Chicago, Chicago, Joe Girardi’s home town
Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin’ town
Chicago, Chicago the Yanks will toss them around – we love it
Bet your bottom dollar Hughes will lose his blues in Chicago, Chicago,
The town where for six innings even he shut them down
On West 35th Street, that great street, I just want to say
They do things they don’t do on Broadway
Ozzie had the time, the worst time of his life
His bats went dead, unlike his hot-looking wife
In Chicago, Chicago, Chicago, Joe Girardi’s home town
