By Doug White
The Pope in his big funny hat
Gave mass where Joe Torre once sat
A little old lady
Said, “Well yea, but maybe
What would Ron Blomberg say about that?”
Posted 4/21/08
4 Tampa Bay Haiku
by Gary Gillette
Tampa Bay Haiku No. 1
In God’s waiting room
The Sea hatches unholy
Bottom-feeding Rays.
Tampa Bay Haiku No. 2
Satanic rays swim
‘Round rev’nue-sharing sinkhole.
Damn Yanks; damn Red Sox.
Tampa Bay Haiku No. 3
Naimoli mantra:
Vinnie, we hardly knew ye.
Gale force storm brewing.
Tampa Bay Haiku No. 4
Even St. Peter
Could not make juice from concrete.
Bayside disaster.
Posted 4/15/08.
2008 AMERICAN LEAGUE THREE-LINE TEAM PREVIEWS
BALTIMORE
Is it too late to call Cal?
Or even Bob Bonner?
With Hernandez or Fahey, the season’s a goner.
BOSTON
The pitching staff is shot to hell.
With Schilling, Beckett, and Colon unwell,
They’re Dice-rolling at the opening bell.
CHICAGO
Will the Sox get greedy
With Crede?
Watch your back, Ozzie—or, rather, watch Joe’s.
CLEVELAND
It’s time for the talent to show.
And with any luck (please, God)…
Maybe a new logo?
DETROIT
No injury worries—not even a tinge!
When any Tiger feels a twinge,
They’ll call on Brandon Inge.
KANSAS CITY
Tote that Bale, lift that Gload,
Another long year in KC?
Or a renaissance? These kids are beginning to be.
LOS ANGELES
K-Rod,
And Vlad the Impaler,
And a bunch of young pitchers hopping out of a trailer.
MINNESOTA
No cash for Johan or Torii,
But there’s money for Nathan—within reason—
Though he pitches just 70 innings a season.
NEW YORK STATE OF MIND
The Yankees won’t listen to reason!!
They’ll pull out their Wang
To open the season!!
OAKLAND
What’s that sound from the Street?
Is it Foulke music so sweet?
Oh, it’s Rich Harden’s shoulder, grinding like meat.
SEATTLE
Half the team has reached the big three-oh,
And aside from Ichiro,
There’s a lot of “don’t know.”
TAMPA BAY
They sent Longoria to Triple-A
To reduce his service time? Feh!
This franchise is still the pride of Mephistofele.
TEXAS
Trouble children, like Bradley and Hamilton,
And a pitching staff
Of no wheat and all chaff.
TORONTO
Toronto has Coats.
Maybe they’ll avoid
A cold April.
Posted 3/31/08
Big Mitt
by Thomas Michael McDade
Which one handled Hoyt
Wilhelm’s fabled knuckleball first
with a mitt so large it looked illegal?
Slow-footed Gus Triandos
or tough guy Clint Courtney?
You’d think John and I were
Oriole fans we used
their names so much!
If there was hostility or money bet
we might have checked it out
at the library but we chose
to keep that dispute
alive as if it were religion or politics
through college and summers
of painting and paving.
Days there was no work
we retreated to the bars
and those names appeared
in the smoke and pool cue dust
at the Wood’s End Bar.
Were the bar stool seats
the size of the glove in question?
At the Ship’s Lantern there were
captain chairs and frosty mugs
to scrawl those two names on
when we weren’t toasting
the procession of braless
Westport women — especially
those with just the right perk
and handful to bring
Hoyt’s flaky pitch to mind.
Years shot by like errant
horsehide before John’s letter
with a clipping came.
In small print it said my pick,
Scrap Iron Clint, had debuted
the trashcan lid of a mitt in 1960.
That bit of newspaper has turned
as yellow as Hoyt’s dainty lobs
must have looked to a catcher
who led the league in brawling.
Posted 11/1/07
THE ROCKET, by Edgar Allen Cano
Actually, by Hart Seely
His new book, Mother Goose Goes to Washington: Nursery Rhymes for the Political Barnyard, is now available from Simon & Schuster.
.
Once upon a midnight era, while I pondered Yogi Berra,
O’er many our Babes and Scooters, men of dynasties of pinstriped lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping,
Like Big Pappi, loudly crapping, rapping ’bout some final score.
‘Tis some Redsock fan,’ I muttered, “drunken still, from 2004.”
“Only this, and nothing more.”
.
Ah, distinctly, I remember; we had rumbled through September,
‘Till our Bronxian troops had snatched a Wild Card from the Tigers’ drawer.
Anxiously, I sought each morrow; for our foes, I’d feel no sorrow,
For we would beg or steal or borrow, tomorrow would be ours for sure.
Beating down the Redsocks in a way no Gammons could ignore,
Owning them, forevermore.
.
Though some hitters could be chilling, we’d take pleasure on Curt Schilling,
Crushing balls of gopher, wreaking havoc like in times of yore;
And in my heart, though feeling clammy, I imagined beaning Manny,
Manny, being Manny, on his fanny, writhing on the floor.
Send them home as losers, and to us, a series ring restore!
Champions soon, and evermore!
.
“Suddenly, I felt a shudder, sensed a faint, familiar flutter,
In flew a stubbled chin of rubbled skin of double-grubbled gore.
And there before me, face a-twitter; t’was the famed Piazza-hitter;
He of filth and cheese and splitter, Roger Clemens at my door!
Bigger than Giambi, wide and pinstriped at my chamber door.
Big he was, as Michael Moore.
.
“Beast!” said I, “Fiend full of might! What evil brings you here tonight?
“What lures you out of Texas to this distant place and littered shore?
“Ancient one, so grand and pro, who hurled for us, once, long ago,
“Tell me, creature, large as train, that we’ll rule the Socks again!
“Send them home as losers, and to George a series ring restore?
Quoth the Rocket… “Nevermore.”
.
Soon to FOX, my eyes were peering, long I sat there watching, cheering,
Certain we’d beat Cleveland, for we’d always beaten them before.
Andy, Moose, Chien-Ming Wang! How could anything go wrong?
But then again, I bent to cussing; ’round our heads I felt a buzzing,
Bugs and mites and pop-ups; we were roasted, toasted, out in four.
Quoth the Rocket. “Nevermore.”
.
And so the Rocket, once rehired, now sits resting, home, retired;
While tears of Susyn Waldman stain the paint upon my chamber door.
For in his eyes was all the seeming of a Redsock who’d been scheming,
And now his Boston fans are streaming, gleaming from the drinks they pour;
And my team, from hell itself, a curse we’re facing to be sure…
It shall be lifted. nevermore.
.
You can see more of Hart’s poetry and Yankee silliness at his blog, IT IS HIGH, IT IS FAR, IT IS…..caught.
Posted 10/31/07