A Open Letter to Faux Cub Fans
by Becky Binks and Cary Donham
Rule #1
Back before Harry Caray, Santo, and Hughes
The bleachers held young actors paying their dues.
But Belushi and Murray knew Rule Number 1:
Remember, always, there’s a game going on.
Rule #2
Buy a scorecard, keep score, and follow along.
If you don’t know how, there’s an app on your phone.
Sit your butt down when you hear, “Down in front!”
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.
Rule #3
Don’t go to get nachos when a runner’s on base.
Ignore your full bladder, that babe you might chase.
Just get up between innings or when a pitcher is gone.
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.
Rule #4
Don’t sit back of home plate and gab on your phone.
When you show up on TV, you’ll look like a clown.
Get back to your scorecard; you might miss a home run.
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.
Rule #5
The game lasts nine innings, don’t have any doubt.
Don’t stand for the pitcher until the last out.
Standing adds drama that doesn’t belong,
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.
Rule #6
Remember that baseball’s the reason you came,
There’re plenty of sports bars for after the game.
No one cares how much cash you paid your salon,
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.
The wife-and-husband team of Becky Binks and Cary Donham intrepidly support the Cubs from the far South Side enclave of Beverly.
In The Big Inning
by Art Gomez
In the beginning there was silence
Complete and deafening
Enough for a quiet cliché about a pin dropping
The kind of silence only a home crowd can achieve
A silent empty air
created by dashed anticipations and disappointments too numerous
There was nothing in the stillness
to suggest an end to the resolve to wait another day
There was nothing but more of the same
Futility ruled as the first two men trudged from dugout to on-deck to plate
The first was out without a twitch of recognition
Watching as three straight zipped past
The second flailed at three more
But the stitched leather need not fear
as it found safe haven in the mitt
Next up
Sensing the final indignity and the end of the day’s misery
one lone fan began to clap
Slowly, what was left of the crowd began to laugh and clap along
A rhythm built that had been missing throughout
Even the Ump smiled
understanding the need
No one wants to be the last out but someone must
No one can step into the box with doubtful thoughts and survive
The confrontation at hand
although shared by many on and off the field
is in a sense one-on-one
And one will fail
It seemed as though the man on the mound was in control
Had a sure thing in the bag
and would soon have a refreshing shower and steak dinner
It seemed the man at bat was behind in the count before the first pitch
But things happen
Things happen in a subtle way and seem not to matter
One gets away and just nips the uniform
Man on first
The next with a powerful swing
manages to barely get bat on ball
and owes lady luck a big kiss for his “swinging bunt”
Men on first and second
Shake it off
No harm done
Get the next guy and go home
Quickly there are two strikes
The diehards who continued whooping
are standing and stomping
sensing the possibility of the unreal
Eliminate the impossible and the unbelievable can be true
The next pitch gets in his kitchen
The bat is shattered – splintered
Shards flying every which way
as the ball brazenly bloops just out of reach
from the outstretched infielder
The hard charging outfielder
Bases loaded
Players live for this moment
Down by three
Bottom of the ninth
Two outs
Winning run at the plate
A childhood dream of Grand proportions
A visit to the mound just for cool and concentration
It’s not like anything has been hit hard
or his stuff has disappeared
Just a few flukes
He’s the ace
The right man is up for the job
An RBI machine when it counts
Power to all fields
He knows what to look for and gets it
Smooth, quick, bat speed a blur
The “Crack” says it all
As the ball reaches the fences
the man in right times his leap
and the Umpire gets in position
The stands are on their feet
as time stands still
in anticipation of a moment to remember
A glove leans over and snatches
the ball in flight
The defender comes up empty
On and off the field
an eruption of pent up emotion
A game of beauty can leave
both victor and vanquished
stunned
Splendor on the grass?
Today’s faithful will never know
Fan interference
Batter out
Game over
In the Big Inning there was
[SILENCE]
According to family legend, Art Gomez was conceived in a Chicago hotel room when his father had a tryout with the Cubs. A devoted Mariners fan, Art reads his poems in the Seattle area as a member of PoetsWest and Seattle Free Lances. His poems have appeared in Spindrift, Minotaur Press, Poetic Matrix, Seattle Muse, and Poets Against War, and on KSER 90.7 FM (Independent Public Radio).
2012 NL Central Prediction Haikus
By Stuart Shea
CHICAGO CUBS
Behold the savior!
He slouches toward Wrigleyville
And shops at J. Crew.
CINCINNATI REDS
Scott’s Rolen along
At least as much as one “rolls”
On two rusty wheels.
HOUSTON ASTROS
In a great big barn
The inhabitants will smell…
25 heifers
MILWAUKEE BREWERS
The abdication
Means the Milwaukee lineup
Will welcome the Mat.
PITTSBURGH PIRATES
Pretty park, green grass,
Lovely statue, tasty beer,
Clint Barmes at short
ST. LOUIS CARDINALS
Elders leave the grounds,
Leaving the young ones to play
The eternal game.
An Ode to Bright House Field (With No Mention of the Hooters Ball Girls)
by Joyce Heiser
We could’ve gone to SeaWorld
The ocean sounds like fun
Instead we sit in the hot heat sun
And watch a game of chance
Is it a game or more a test?
Road-tired vets that have to play
Minted fresh kids who demand their say
Now, then, a years-old dance
It’s a fine, fine line they walk
For us a lazy day
A beer, a dog, just to get away
It takes work to make romance
A Mets Fan’s Lament
by Ron Kaplan
Reyes gone.
Life goes on.
New woes take
time to bake.
Now Johan
can’t pitch/can?
Either way,
sad to say,
fans don’t care,
won’t be there.
“Citifield,
where Mets yield.”
Money’s tight
wallet’s light.
Can’t pay loans,
Wilpon phones
MLB
just to see
if they can
find a plan.
Get some jocks
with high socks,
shirts tucked in
after win.
Will Dave Wright
now take flight?
Song of swan,
“Reyes gone.”
Ron Kaplan is the head honcho at the excellent blog, Ron Kaplan’s Baseball Bookshelf, which is about baseball but not strictly about books.
