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 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).

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.

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

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.

In the winter they swarm to Caracas
Where the fans, true to form, shake maracas
.      Down there all the players
.      Don’t wear many layers
As the sun keeps them warm in the tuchas.

How could that squirrel
Send Roy Oswalt squirmin’?
Well, Cardinals eat seeds and
don’t hunt vermin.

The Cardinals are blanking the Astros again,
And they’ll make the playoffs if the Braves can’t win.
I wish I was there for this wild-card craze,
But I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Hey! Tampa came back from a 7-0 hole,
Dan Johnson just tied it–right off the foul pole!
I’d love to be seeing the Yankees and Rays,
But I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Did Baltimore really just walk off the Sox?
And Papelbon pull one more of his rocks?
So Tampa and St. Lou are in. I’m amazed
That I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

It’s cold in this pressbox at Safeco Field,
And watching a meaningless game is the yield.
The action is elsewhere, and it’s one of those days.
I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Betsy says a friend of hers
went to high school with Kirk Gibson
and that he was stuck up even then.

Debbie says Frank is taking her
to one of those things
where they play two games in one day.
What’s it called, a double bubble?
She makes a face: I can hardly stand one game
much less two.

Jack, the burly security guard says
it’s too damn boring. Everybody
standing around picking their asses.

I sit at my desk
flipping through accounts, pulling overdrafts.
My ass squirms in padded comfort
longing for the bleacher’s hard bench.

Arnold says he likes it better
on tv. Why go to the ballpark,
he asks, and deal with the traffic
and the crowds?

Better on tv?
Get yer red hots heah!
Coke! Iiiiiiice Cooooold Coke!
Crack of bat on ball. Smell
of stale cigars and spilled beer.
Seventh inning stretch.
Cold beer in the sun.

Cold beer in the sun.
I bang my seat
to start up a rally.

Jim Daniels is the Thomas Stockham Baker Professor of English at Carnegie Mellon University.  His newest story collection, TRIGGER MAN: More Tales of the Motor City, is now available, and can be ordered from Amazon here.

Man in a white suit
Stealing signs for the Blue Jays
But they still don’t win.