Teamless

by Ellen Adair

With apologies to Lord Byron

I had a dream that was not all a dream.
Some large misfortune overtook the coasts,
And their tall cities were abandoned, only the blown
Forgotten newsprint scuttling down the street.
Exiled elsewhere, I marveled at the ways
That life persists: baseball was still played
By all the teams based in central states,
Their match-ups limited and circular,
While only ghosts played in my home parks,
Swinging blind at nothing in the moonless air.
Who’s my team now, I thought. No Phillies, Sox,
Or A’s. No Mets. Is it the Diamondbacks?

 

Ellen Adair is an actor, with recurring roles on shows like “The Sinner,” “Homeland,” and “Bull,” and a contributing analyst to the MLB Network show “Off Base.” Their book of poetry, Curtain Speech, is available from Pen & Anvil Press. They also host the podcasts “Take Me In to the Ballgame” and “Love Takes Action,” and draws baseball players by commission.

A’s to Las Vegas!

Old bay city with a baseball team
Once the home of Moneyball
Playing in what looks like an airplane hangar
Or Appalachian shopping mall

But the owner doesn’t think he’s milking enough
Fields a team full of losers and scrubs
And dares the local fans if they’ve had enough

A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!

Old city sort of offered a deal
But Vegas had a lot more flash
Fisher didn’t get as rich as he is
By expending his own cash

East Bay lore disappears in smoke
Swingin’ A’s, Bash Brothers tossed in a poke
Nevada taxpayers, get ready to choke…

A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!

Sin City got them legal hookers,
All-day casinos and sports book bookers,
Booze, coke, poppers and meth,
Donny Osmond, Penn & Teller,
And machine gun rental…
Sitting at a ballgame?
They might as well check if you’re dead!

So money talks and bullshit walks
An old credo, tried and true,
Leverage turns soon into blackmail
While the regular guys get screwed

Get ready for baseball the Vegas way
The rock-hard infield is ready to play
And more empty seating than Tampa Bay

A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!
A’s to … A’s to …
Las Vegas!

Casey at the Bat: Another Outcome

by Michael Ceraolo

The outlook wasn’t hopeful for the Mudville nine that day,
Trailing four to two with but one inning left to play.
We’ll cut to the chase to bring this puppy home,
Skipping several stanzas of Thayer’s celebrated poem.

We will pick it up again as the umpire calls strike one,
Little realizing as he does so, what will soon be done.
For at the call, though a good one, Casey throws up his hands,
And as though awaiting the sign, the fans rush from the stands.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
But there are consequences when the fans act like horseshit:
And there is no joy in Mudville–the riot caused a forfeit.

 

Some of What a Ticket Taker Hears

by David Eldridge

“I’m so glad to be here.” . “I want to go home.” . “I hope we win tonight.” . “Where is the closest restroom?” . “The starting pitcher for the other team is terrible.” . “Kids, stay with us.” . “I need a beer.” . “The first baseman better not make any errors tonight.” . “I can’t find my tickets.” . “I hope we see a home run.” . “I’m hot.” . “I’m cold.” . “I hope I catch a ball.” . “Please go ahead of me.” . “I need a hot dog.” . “I love you.” . “I hate you.” . “He strikes out too much.” . “Kids, stop hitting each other.” . “It looks like it could rain.” . “He can’t hit.” . “He can’t pitch.” . “I’m not giving you my cell phone.” . “I want a ball cap.” . “I hope the umps aren’t blind tonight.” . “I need a scorecard.” . “He is only hitting .230.” . “Why are we here?” . “He throws too many fastballs.” . “The ticket takers are slow.”

David is a lawyer, a fencer, and a poet.  He is also hopelessly mad about a white ball with 108 double-stitches.