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Brandon’s No Babe, But Shohei What!

by Dr. Rajesh C. Oza

What’s he doing out there
on the pitching mound?
He looks more like a bear
than a throwing hound.

Position players
say their prayers,
when the manager
says, “You’re my reliever.”

Babe Ruth began his career
with a pitch that hitters feared.
But when he traded in his ball,
His bat made him Bunyanesque tall.

When Brandon Crawford pitched
Batters were not bewitched.
He had an astronomical 27.00 ERA.
So what, he wasn’t even batting his weight.

Some say Triple Crown threat Shohei never shoulda
Pitched, even if imitate Cy Young he coulda.
But over a 162-game season,
Let’s have some fun with batting/pitching treason.

Dr. Oza’s novel Double Play sits at the intersection of Ernie Banks’ Cubs, the Negro Leagues, riding the El, wrongful convictions, immigration and friendship. It will be published in October 2024 by Chicago’s Third World Press.

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Vernon “Lefty” Gomez

by Michael Ceraolo

Unlike Yogi later, I did say everything I said
And while a couple of the details related
might not have been entirely accurate, the substance was
I don’t mind being remembered as a storyteller,
but I sometimes wonder if that was why
the writers never elected me to the Hall of Fame:
because I was more entertaining than they were,
they dismissed how great a pitcher I was

 

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All-Star Game Moment

by Stephen Jones

The Kenes/Judge first-inning showcase
Was anticipated,
And both the fans and commentators
Were elated
When — bells ringing — it occurred.

But it was a bit of a letdown:
No fireworks — an HR or strikeout —
When the Judge grounded out to third …
And then it was all over too soon.

 

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Batters Up

by Michael Gallowglas

Someday, years from now, I’ll be sitting
at the Brooklyn Center for Fiction,
working on some story or other,
and a sound will grow in the background—
soft at first, then it will rise and rise
until it will hit just the right frequency
as the fillings in my teeth. The fillings will buzz
into my mind, creating a whole new kind
of sound that will nearly drown the screams,
screams that will draw everyone outside.
Screams that will draw everyone down
to the East River. Dread Cthulhu himself
will rise from the waters intent
on destroying New York City as his conquest.
His first target will be Lady Liberty.
He’ll break our spirits by breaking that monument.
A bright flash will appear in the sky,
only, it won’t go away, that flash, bright
as the sun, and Gregorian, rag-time hymns
will drown the alien frequency buzzing
through our fillings and into our minds.
A spiritual subway car will fly out
of that perpetual flash, carrying
Jackie Robinson and Babe Ruth from Heaven.
Those two legendary swingers will leap
out of that spiritual subway car and swing away
with their holy baseball bats of righteousness.
Cthulhu won’t stand a chance. Those sluggers
will slug dread Cthulhu back to the depths
chunk by battered chunk, and I’ll head back
to the Brooklyn Center for Fiction
and finish working on some story or other.

From his collection Cameos, which will be released May 28.