Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
35 home runs so far this year
At home plate the Yankees on a tear
But a cautionary admonition does exist
During the regular season one may
By thunderous bat live or die
But it is by pitching with good reason
That teams win in post-season
So while the Yankees knock on history’s
Door — home runs grand slams RBIs —
They also know in cycles a live bat
Can cool when other teams get hot
They know it’s with pitching they must persist
We cannot know his legendary head,
We cannot know his riddle-speak, his swing,
His heart that greets no consequence, no dread.
Oblivious (or publicly misread),
He went forth like a jester, like a king.
We cannot know his legendary head.
Ramirez never anguished, never bled.
Perfection seemed a right and simple thing.
His heart? It greets no consequence, no dread.
A paradox: collective joy and dread
Awash in pride and drunk on estrogen–
We cannot know his legendary head.
A selfish man and insecure, they said.
But maybe public shame can even sting
A heart that greets no consequence, no dread.
And maybe all the jokes had turned to lead,
The time had come to leave the center ring.
We’ll never know his legendary head,
His heart that greets no consequence, no dread.
Eric writes the terrific blog Pitchers & Poets. One of his posts from P&P appears in the 2010 edition of Best American Sports Writing.
By Stuart Shea
BALTIMORE ORIOLES
Talented groundhogs
Trying to burrow through a
two-layer brick wall.
BOSTON RED SOX
Deep at every spot.
Not young at any of them,
Must win now or else.
NEW YORK YANKEES
E. Chavez is “back”!
Well, that’s a strange way to say
That he feels “healthy.”
TAMPA BAY RAYS
Damon? Ramirez?
It all depends what kind of
leadership you want.
TORONTO BLUE JAYS
Latinos can get
Good job opportunities
North of the border.
Been an Astro for so long,
Got the gong,
Here’s your song:
Bye, bye, Berkman.
Master of the hard line drive,
You’re 35?
What’s that jive?
Bye, bye, Berkman.
When Ed Wade shipped your contract to the Yankees last July,
You didn’t know it wasn’t “come on back,” but just “goodbye.”
The hourglass is losing sand.
Will you land
In Japan?
Bye, bye, Berkman.
by Cormican
In the euphoria of the NLCS, this Phillies fan contemplated a pitching duel for the ages and channeled the spirit of Edgar Allan Poe for this poem. Alas, the matchup wasn’t meant to be, which adds the appropriate amount of heartbreak to this homage to Poe.
It was many and many a month ago
.  In a ballpark in NYC
That an Ace there pitched so nonchalant
.  That caught pop-ups non-chalantly
He was an ace and Doc was an Ace
. at this ballpark in South Philly
Dare we dream of a game that is more than a game
. One with Halladay – Lee
With an arm that the horned demons in Bronx
. Coveted Clifton P. Lee
And this was the reason that, months ago
. In this ballpark in South Philly
A smug came out, refurbished the farm
. by trading our Clifton P. Lee
So that our deep pocket neighbors can
. can sign him from SEA
To set him up with Sabbathia
. In their kingdom in NYC
The Rangers, not half as blessed with pitching
. Went trading with SEA for Lee
Yes, this was the season (as old men know,
. for the team that was once from DC)
That the Doc came out of a cold north town
. Starting and stopping their Clifton P. Lee
But their team it was far stronger than the teams
. Of those with Chocolate Chili
. Of those with Jerry Garci…
And neither the Angels in Los Angeles/Anaheim
. Or the demons in Bronx, NYC
Can ever dissever Game one from Game one
. ‘gainst Rangers,’gainst Yankees
For when a game starts, the players start winning my heart
. Especially Halladay – Lee
Other stars will rise, but none, in my eyes
. match the aces that this night I see
And so as the sun died, I sat down on my hide
With my Yuengling – my Riesling – my team and my bride
. See the stadium in South Philly
. In the glory of Halladay – Lee.
Found on the Phillies blog, The Good Phight.