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Summer Wind, Yankees Style

by HoraceClarke66

The summer wind was blowin’ out
At least half the year.
When Soto hit and Judge ran wild,
And we dreamed of golden rings.
Two monsters and the summer wind.

Like painted kites
Those long-ball nights
They went flyin’ by.
The world was new
’Neath a pinstriped blue
Umbrella sky.
Then worse than
Poor Gleyber ran
Cashman sent it askew.
We lost it with the summer wind.

The autumn wind,
The winter wind
Will come and go.
As Giants fall,
And Knicks appall,
Through another barren winter.

And yes those days,
Those dismal days
Will drag on and on.
As Gleyber clings
And Soto brings
Cheer to Flushing Meadow.
Where the hell can we go?

We’ll just have to wait,
For that same-old, same-old summer wind.

Originally appeared in the indispensable Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is…caught.

 

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The Road Less Traveled

by Randy Frost (as told to 18bit)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
But I know little about the game
And be one GM, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
Then traded for some broken arms;

I sold the farm, but just as fair,
And since I’m great at 4D chess,
I got some prospects, worse for wear;
And gave them to our training staff
Who never really know or care,

And then I sat back, thinking hard
The sky had started snowing fast.
The season was over, just for us!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I thought that I might win next year.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
I bought a has-been hitter, and put
together a rotten farm, but I sleep well
Hal don’t care, that makes all the difference.

This first appeared on the indispensable Yankee website, It Is High, It Is Far, It Is….caught.

 

 

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Johnny Kucks

by Yankee Frankovic (pen name for James Doyle)

From the 4/5/55 Cleveland Plain Dealer:

Yank pitching rook, one Johnny Kucks,
Is looking like one million Bucks
And kindly let me hear no More,
If possible, of one Herb Score.

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The Bambino’s New Clothes

by James Finn Garner

They just auctioned off the shirt
Worn by the Babe when he put the hurt
On the Cubs in the Series of ’32.
We all fall for this dippity-do
Of the “called shot”, yet
The Babe himself plumb forgot
To mention it ’til 20 years later,
Making it a stale, strange tater.
Would Cubs pitcher Root, further,
Not have wished that showboat murder
And thrown a fastball at his ear
Next time up, to local cheers?
It’s a myth, okay? A tall tale, a fable.
Just ‘cuz the sellers say they are able
To verify the jersey through “photo-match”,
And other wits say aye, the whole klatsch
Is in the end a suspicious familia,
All making bank on each other’s memorabilia.

What was true then is true now, don’t be mistaken:
There’s one born every minute, and two to take him.

Babe Ruth ‘called shot’ Yankees jersey fetches record $24M

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Cashman Oh Cashman

by Doug K

Sung to the tune of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker”

Cashman, oh Cashman
We know Hal is rich…
Find us at last,
Someone to pitch.

Game after game
In late innings it’s blown.
So find us a clo-ser,
… of our own.

For AA…
Make him like Sparky!
For Hoss,
Wetteland’s fastball would be nice.
For me, well, I wouldn’t holler …
A Rivera-like cutter so they swing thrice!

Cashman, oh Cashman
Please go through your book
Because it is time
To give Holmes the hook.

Night after night
We cough up the lead
While you dumpster dive
… out of greed.

CASHMAN:
Fellas, I’ve found him!
Have I got a guy for you
He had thirty saves…
In 1992.
Still, he’s got good stuff. Good stuff.
So nu? He’s due.

His peripherals are amazing
All ground outs. No loft!
We’ll use him once and then…
His arm falls off.

CASHMAN:
Fellas, you’ll love this…
This closer’s been here before.
He sweats like a pig
But he throws 104.

They go straight as an arrow.
His pitches come in true.
They hit them just as fast…
So we’ll turn two!

CASHMAN:
This next one has a temper.
A clubhouse chair he’ll fight…
But only when he’s sober
So we’re alright…

Cashman, oh Cashman
You suck at your job.
Your salary, and our souls you rob.
Do us a favor and quit the team soon…

You can’t make a trade.
Can’t sign a guy.
Can’t draft at all.
Can’t win a ring!

…and take with you Aaron Boone.

This appeared first in the indispensable Yankee blog, It  Is High, It Is Far, It Is ….caught.