Browse all poems and songs in the 'Texas Rangers' Category


Say Goodbye to These Retirees

by James Finn Garner

As the leaves turn from green to brown
And we rekindle antipathy for Joe Buck
Let’s recall players whose careers are done
And their stories of drive and hope and luck.

Jered Weaver, strikeout ace,
Can now just putter around his place.

Atlanta’s Frenchy, Jeff Francouer
Will now as a TV color man tour.

SF fans can thank Matt Cain
For embiggening the Jints again.

Likewise, Ryan Vogelsong
Can practice bird calls all day long.

Joe Nathan will have to find his thrill
Somewhere other than the bullpen hill.

And Nick Swisher, quintessential bro,
Will just leave a trail of grit where’er he goes.

To these and all other retirees
Thank you for the thrilling years.
Now, with us, relax near the TV,
Watch some playoff ball and enjoy some beers.

 



I Am Some Body!

by Jim Siergey

O, how I wish Destiny put
As catcher, one day, Barry Foote
While on the mound lands
The hurler Bill Hands
I’d pay an arm and a leg to see that

The bullpen is aptly in place
With perfectly named Elroy Face
As one last zinger
We add Rollie Fingers
With Heinie Manush up to bat

As he comes to the plate, there’s a buzz,
The one man with the name to give pause,
Each syllable clear-
Ly a body part dear:
Here comes man-of-parts Tony Armas!

 



That Gallant Pirate Crew

by James Francis Burke

From the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, October 16, 1925, when the Pirates vanquished the Senators after being down 3-1 in the World Series.

Were it not for Prohibition,
Which has made the country dry,
I’d fill a wine glass brimming
And lift it toward the sky
And drink a royal bumper —
In fact, I’d make it two —
To good old Bill McKechnie
And his gallant Pirate crew.

But wine is gone forever —
At least, that’s what I hear,
And hence a thirsty poet
Can only stand and cheer
For those whose names are written
‘Mid the skies eternal blue:
The names of Barney Dreyfus
And his gallant Pirate crew.

The Capital’s in mourning,
But the nation’s all arrayed
In the colors of the rainbow
Whose bright hues never fade.
For the Buccaneers are victors —
One can hardly think it’s true —
So here’s to Bill and Barney
And their gallant Pirate crew.

The dear old slow Potomac’s
Filled with tears from shore to shore;
The stately public buildings
Have crepe on every door;
While diplomats and statesmen
Have nothing left to do
But envy good old Pittsburgh
And her gallant Pirate crew.

But let’s be fair, my comrades,
And give the “Nats” their due:
They played the game like heroes,
Like sportsmen good and true.
And here’s a fan’s confession,
A tip twixt me and you:
It was not summer picnic
For our gallant Pirate crew.

 



Don Zimmer

by Hilary Barta

An ardent and ballsy debater,
At arguing calls none was greater
His jowls had a fit
As he howled and he spit
A gnarly and balding old tater.

 



Autumn’s New Retirees

by James Finn Garner

Before the Fall gets underway,
Let us doff our caps and say
Goodbye to those who’ll junk their cleats,
Leave the park and walk the streets.

Super-versatile Angel Chone
Will now be the utility man at home.
Grant Balfour, hothead Aussie,
Can only fume when his wife gets bossy.

Phil Humber’s vaunted perfect game
Was his sole stat worth noting (such a shame).
The Prince has trouble with his neck–
He’ll inspire no more fear on-deck.

Tex and A-Rod will leave the Yanks
And all their fans will mumble thanks,
While Raf Soriano has called an end
To tell war stories, a fine fireman.

But let’s not forget the other guys,
Young tyros once, with starry eyes,
Who gave their all but somehow missed
The general manager’s call-up list.

They’re just as key to the game as any
Adam LaRoche or Brad Penny.
Talent, drive and dreams they bid,
Just like us when we were kids.

 

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