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Box Lunch

by Wayne F. Burke

Eager to get to the ballfield
in the morning
to play
baseball, what I lived for
1964,
I followed the Major League scores,
batting averages, and standings;
the rest of the world no more
to me then
than a nightly news show
like Vietnam helicopter
womp womp,
machine gun rat-tat-tat;
I fed on
daily box scores in the newspaper
each breakfast
and left the ballfield only
to return home
for a meal
and on days it rained
I read books about baseball…
A guy my uncle knew, who
played for the local high school, had
played two years with the NY Yankees.

 

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Teamless

by Ellen Adair

With apologies to Lord Byron

I had a dream that was not all a dream.
Some large misfortune overtook the coasts,
And their tall cities were abandoned, only the blown
Forgotten newsprint scuttling down the street.
Exiled elsewhere, I marveled at the ways
That life persists: baseball was still played
By all the teams based in central states,
Their match-ups limited and circular,
While only ghosts played in my home parks,
Swinging blind at nothing in the moonless air.
Who’s my team now, I thought. No Phillies, Sox,
Or A’s. No Mets. Is it the Diamondbacks?

 

Ellen Adair is an actor, with recurring roles on shows like “The Sinner,” “Homeland,” and “Bull,” and a contributing analyst to the MLB Network show “Off Base.” Their book of poetry, Curtain Speech, is available from Pen & Anvil Press. They also host the podcasts “Take Me In to the Ballgame” and “Love Takes Action,” and draws baseball players by commission.

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Jack O’Connor

by Michael Ceraolo

In my first trade war
I took a sum of money to jump my contract,
then stayed put and kept the money
What were they going to do, sue me?
In the next trade war
I acted as Ban Johnson’s agent
and convinced several of my Pirate teammates
to move with me to his American League
Did that earn his undying gratitude?
Hell no
It took eight years, but he got rid of me
after the Lajoie hitting spree against us
Season-ending games between non-contenders
always had, and continue to have, aspects of farce:
witness the fact that McGuire and I,
both over forty, caught for part of the day
I had the last laugh, winning my lawsuit
for the 1911 salary I was due,
though if I had to do it over
I would manage the doubleheader differently.

Informal head and shoulders portrait of baseball player Jack O’Connor of the American League’s St. Louis baseball team, standing on the field at South Side Park, located at West 37th Street, South Princeton Avenue, West Pershing Road (formerly West 39th Street), and South Wentworth Avenue in the Armour Square community area of Chicago, Illinois. Photo source: Chicago History Museum.
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Homeward Bound

by Fred Lovato

After seven years
Tanaka sheds his pinstripes
heads back to Japan

(A flashback to 2021)