Browse all poems and songs in the 'Oakland Athletics' Category


Baseball Record

by Steven D. Johnson

Five hundred eleven – the wins of Cy
near three sixty-seven – the bat of Ty
But in baseball heaven, just blink an eye . . .
.    and records will be broken.

Just look at Babe Ruth – seven hundred fourteen
.    To tell you the truth, his home runs were seen
.        to hold a record not passed – thirty-nine years, ‘til alas
Hank Aaron’s bat was woken.

Yet there is a record that will ever stand,
.    but it’s not Ted Williams, and it’s not Stan the Man
.        don’t look to Tris Speaker, don’t bank on Pete Rose
.           for this baseball record every ballplayer knows
.    belongs, yes it does, to another.

It’s not for stolen bases – though Oakland’s a believer
.    nor is it held by aces – like Gibson, Ford or Seaver
No, the sole baseball mark that will hold in every park
.    belongs to father, son, and brother.

The record that won’t break, held through highs and heartache,
is going seven-for-seven, every baseball season week
.    since 1911 – now that is quite a feat!
It’s keeping baseball alive since 1925.
It’s zero games missed since 1886.
It’s giving ballplayers a reason
.    to thrive in baseball season.

Yes, the only baseball record
.    that will maintain its stand
.        belongs to the beloved,
.            committed baseball fans!

 



Baseball’s Sad Exeunt

by Jim Siergey

These are the saddest of possible words:
Jeter, Konerko and Dunn.
Trio of dear ones to all baseball nerds,
Jeter, Konerko and Dunn.
Clean-cutly playing our National Game,
Each one achieving attention and fame –
Long we’ll remember each one of their names:
Jeter, Konerko and Dunn.

 



The Verdict

By The Village Elliott

The verdict resounded
When gavel was pounded,
And Great Score Keeper settled the score,

“Made move that confounded,
Lost game that astounded;
Billy Beane’s reputation’s no more.”



An Elegy to Knuckleheads

By Stuart Shea

The F***in’ A’s are history.
How did this thing come to be?!?
A four-run lead in the eighth
And a rested bullpen at the ready.

Sometimes, teams just fall apart.
The Royals showed a lot of heart,
And came back over and over again
After Lester’s gutsy start.

What does it mean for Billy Beane?
His free-agent pitchers will leave the scene,
The farm system decimated,
Times might get pretty lean.

So let’s salute these crazy A’s,
In these darkening Autumn days,
Their brand of insanity so much a part
Of the Bay Area’s humid summer haze.

Reddick and Crisp, Fuld and Gomes,
Brought joy to so many Oakland homes,
Lester, Donaldson, Doolittle, Vogt,
Their season stolen by base-thieving gnomes.



Pathetic Athletics

by Jim Siergey

I pity the fans of Oakland
Now known as the city of Chokeland
.    Those tumbling A’s
.    Are humbled and dazed
Time to chill out and just take a toke, man

 

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