Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
When the Cubs in ’16 won it all,
The faithful drove, biked and walked
To scratch tributes on the park’s brick wall
In multicolored sidewalk chalk.
Now that crown is just a dream
for this dead-man-walking team.
The chalk should trace, it would seem,
A body’s outline in this crime scene.
Originally published in The Chicago Baseball Magazine.
Miggy knew well with this at bat
His brain on message ‘neath his hat
He struck the sphere
Heard thund’rous cheer
It’s Hit 3,000 — ‘magine that!
Miggy knew this was the night
And held that piece of lumber tight
A mighty swing
He whacked that thing
Just like a blast of dynamite!
3000’s not a mighty sum
If you count cars or bubble gum.
Count hits instead
I’ve heard it said
The hoopla’s ad infinitum!
Millie Bovich, a longtime Bardball contributor, has been a Tigers fan since the days of Hal Newhouser and Virgil Trucks.
When I take me out to the ballgame
I’m always annoyed by a sibilant
That people add to my favorite song,
And it tends to make me belligerent.
It’s not mooses, bisons, deers, and Cracker Jacks.
Strike that -s out like you were Koufax.
It’s moose, bison, deer, and no -s Cracker Jack.
And I don’t care if it ever gets back.