Requiem for Sam Henry
by Becky Binks
Late autumn brings damp and rain;
The baseball season is over again.
The Redbirds were soaring;
Their fans were roaring.
And Texas went home empty-handed.
The holidays and new year’s come,
Bringing dreams of series rings to everyone.
The hot stoves start burning,
With free agent yearning,
And revulse at the salaries commanded.
Spring brings tulips and green grass.
Training and opening day are here at last.
Northern fans bundle for the game,
Southern weather is a lot more tame.
And all hope to catch a foul single-handed.
The late Samuel Henry Donham (a college and semi-pro first baseman whose career ended in injury, and later a junior high baseball coach) instilled a love of baseball in his family, including his daughter-in-law Becky. She is a longtime Cubs fan whose faith is wavering.
The Radio Fan Watches FOX
by Ember Nickel
Was that Tony La Russa after all?
The glasses look right. I don’t know the eyes.
Was that a slider? Changeup? Or curveball?
Perhaps this would be a good place for wise
Commentators to…maybe…commentate.
They keep silent, cutaway to the same
Fan–wedding ring, hair dyed, breath quick to bate–
That they have been showing throughout the game.
Give me the details that I could not hear;
The red glove, the necklace striped blue and white.
We all are fans and we can all guess fear,
We know what is at stake on such a night.
And beyond night, I’ll try myself to share
The game with others–it’s morning out there.
Ember Nickel makes sport with the English language on her blog, Lipogram! Scorecard!
Tastee Freese
by James Finn Garner
The Rangers lay their popguns down
Nolan Ryan sports a frown
The Cardinals new life have found
When Mr. Freese comes to town
The Texas bullpen crashes down
Nelson Cruz fields like a clown
The seat of Mark Lowe’s pants turns brown
When Mr. Freese comes to town
Bud Selig puts away the crown
Ol’ Dallas? One more cowtown
We all get a Game 7 showdown
When Mr. Freese comes to town
Hey, Tony Italiano
by David Bellel
The ‘birds were turned back by Napoli
And their hitting missed the scenery
Ron’s dances and Punto’s charming wrongs
But wait a minute, something’s wrong…
Hey, Tony, Tony Italiano!
Hey, Tony, Tony Italiano!
No, no, no; no World Series win for you, you Sicialiano
Swings the Body Electric (World Series Game 3)
by Hilary Barta
Like Zeus with his shattering bolts
LaRussa’s best batter packs volts
. Like a powerful god
. from his towering bod
flows the juice to the bat of Puholz
I’m sure you all know by now that Hilary posts his limericks on monster movies, noir thrillers and comic books every day at LimerWrecks, but I thought I’d remind you all the same.
