Browse all poems and songs in the 'Ballparks' Category


That’ll Show ‘Em

by Jim Siergey

A homer! I caught it. Look, see?
So many would love to be me!
But, not from a ‘Stro (shit!)
So back I must throw it
to prove I have team loyalty.

 



Yankees 6, Astros 4

by Stephen Jones

Home field advantage — it means
A lot. So does heart. Right now,
The difference between the two
May be measured in intangibles —
Not measurables — and quirks
Of the game. This series … it may go
The distance — like two heavyweights
Who circle each other, mixing skill
And brute force, and each waiting….

 



The Wreck of the Boston Red Sox

by HoraceClark66

The legend lives on
From the Bambino on down
Of the team that folds like a patsy
The Fens, it said,
Always throws up its dead
When the winds of November come early

The Sox were the pride
Of the MLB side
With a team that was certain to win it
A roster so sweet
That they let the boys cheat
And said scarcely a word ag’in it

They had Sale on the mound
And Price who would pound
Any old man who dared to offend him
And Porcello who
You knew would come through
And too many others to mention

The outfield was young
Their praises were sung
Above all the Babe Benintendi
They did a cute dance
And around they would prance
When the team it won so bigly

They were handed the East
Which was the least
MLB could do for their story
Then they’d run through the ‘Stros
And the bows and arrows
And go straight to the Series and glory

But Nuni’s knee gave
Then their main Sale caved
And the Olde Towne Team was hurtin’
Then Pomeranz fell
And Kimbrel went to hell
And another big choke, it was lurkin’

Does any man know
Where the love of God goes
When the hits turn the innings to hours?



Maddening Maddon

by James Finn Garner and Hilary Barta

Ol’ Wrigley was soaked in a squall
Nats’ Taylor had stroked the long ball
Though I love Carl Junior
Hook should’ve come sooner
But Maddon did nothing at all.

 



Twas the Night Before Game One

by Michael Norton

Twas the night before Game One, of the N-L-D-S,
Every Cubs fan thought, “Repeat” of last year’s success.
The banners were hung by the scoreboard with care,
In hopes that more banners soon would be there.

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Cleveland still danced in their heads.
Some thought of Rossy – his famous last hit.
Guys like Zobrist and Monty – they sure never quit.

This season felt different, almost never looked easy.
After two months some fans went from joyful to queasy.
The losses piled up, they got harder to swallow,
Six losses out west caused some more fans to wallow.

“The magic is lost!” some said mad in July.
“They’re not the same team!” others started to cry.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a team that was winning – again they could cheer!

With a few little trades, and a few lessons learned,
We knew in a moment, the tides would be turned.
More rapid the fastballs, our pitchers they threw,
And the bats came alive for our boys in the blue.

When Russell was hurt, Javy made every play.
Joe had Rizzo bat lead-off, got some pinch hits from Jay!
Schwarber was back! Heyward’s swing self-corrected,
Each guy played with heart – even Bryant, ejected!

They hit balls up the middle, then shots in the gap,
Got some help from the young kids, Almora and Happ,
There were homers galore, as they danced in the pen,
And Wade Davis would save games again and again.

“What slow start?” they asked, as the Cubs kept on winning.
They were scoring in virtually every inning.
From six games in back of the leaders they rose,
And they never gave up – well, you know how it goes.

When out on the field there were curses they shattered,
This team kept its sights on the one thing that mattered.
It might have been rough, for some listeners and viewers,
But they quickly disposed of the Cardinals and Brewers.

Washington’s next – a familiar foe,
Sure they may have ol’ Dusty, but we have Saint Joe.
They’ve got Murphy and Scherzer, a guy who’s named Bryce,
But Bryzzo and Co. are not here to play nice.

So give them the edge, hail their pitchers and batters,
But remember the one thing that actually matters:
We’re the Cubs – we can pitch, and our batters can score,
And we know we can win … ‘cause we’ve done it before.

It’s been almost a year since that night at Progressive,
That thrilling Game 7 – every play more impressive.
And while some players left, and some new faces came,
The passion and drive of this team is the same.

They continue to grind, and they make it look fun,
They have grit, they have guts, they won’t stop til they’ve won.
And we’re lucky they’re ours, they sure put on a show,
Because like us, we know that they love “Go Cubs Go!”

Now, Hendricks! Now, Edwards! Quintana and Jake!
On Lester! Montgomery! Our pitchers who rake!
To the bleachers at Wrigley! To the depths of Nats Park!
Let’s get ready to party, ‘round Addison and Clark!

And let’s show the folks up near Capitol Hill
That the Cubs got more heart, and more strength, and more skill.
With their “W” hats on the Nats, we shall stomp!
“W” stands for WIN, now let’s go drain the swamp!

 

Michael Norton is a law student and sports writer for ScoreCardSports.com, where this poem first appeared. Follow him at @mnorton9 and @ScoreCardSports.

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