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Baseball Waltz (Let’s Go To The Ball Park)

Words and music by Tom Rinaldi

(Scroll down to play the MP3)

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There’s something about looking out on a big field of green
A diamond, four bases, and ninety feet in-between
The players go ‘round with their pant legs rolled up to their knees
The smell of fresh peanuts ‘a roasting is caught in the breeze

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Let’s go to the ball park
I haven’t been in a while
I used to watch my favorite slugger
Knock that baseball a mile
Let’s go to the ball park
Let’s be kids again
Hot dogs with mustard
And frozen custard
Just like it was back then

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The magic allure of the game is as pure as the snow
With nicknames like Lefty and Dizzy and Murderer’s Row
And nothing’s as pretty as watching the infield “get two”
Or watching a pop up fall out of a big sky of blue

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Repeat Chorus

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Where else can you go
Where they stop the show
Two-thirds of the way
Just to stretch and sing a song
Before they continue to play?

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Repeat Chorus

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[audio:http://bardball.com/audio/01 Track 1.mp3]

Posted 6/5/2009

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The Ghost Seats of Yankee Stadium

by James Finn Garner

I was warmly surprised

That the new Yankee Stadium

Has all those spare seats

(And good ones, too!)

For the ghosts of all the fans

In the Yankee Universe who never made it there:

The Bowery Bum who could never buy a ticket,

The upstate farmer who could never spare time,

The soldier who fought alongside Joltin’ Joe and never made it back,

The street kid who played catch with junk and never had a chance, at anything.

 

I bet a Bombers game on the radio

Was sometimes a cooling touch of silk that eased their minds,

And Yankee Stadium unseen was

A green heaven they didn’t know they wished for.

 

Now they’re behind home plate,

Feet up, leaning back,

Making good use of the space.

Here’s to them,

And to the good-hearted Yankees.

 

Posted 6/4/2009

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Cheering the Tigers in Minnesota

by James Motz

What’s this – a dome? This field is a joke!
Everything all fake, bunch of mirrors and smoke.
Where’s the blue skies and warm sunny feelings
Instead of blue plastic, “Baggies” – a ceiling?!

Neck twisted left for eight innings to see
The man in gray swing and miss for strike three!
You call that working the count? Must I
Suffer the insult of cheering that guy?!

The whole thing unfolds, painful to watch.
First a single, a double, couple of walks.
The lead for our team, thought to be safe
Now just about gone – and I’m outta faith.

The fan to my right stands up and cheers,
He’s awfully close to our un-empty beers,
But how can he resist from rubbing it in?
The mighty Tigers have a crappy bullpen!

“Break out the brooms!” He takes up the shout.
Whole lousy place ready, there’s really no doubt…
There! Crede kills us again, no surprise.
Every time, losing to a team I despise.

Cramped in my seat, I glower. “This sucks!”
Says my friend who spent over sixty bucks
To drive from Wisconsin to watch them win.
Now he goes home disappointed again.

Another lead blown, and all the fans scream,
And in my new town, down goes my old team.
The teeth are grit hard, tears beg to be wept,
My beloved Detroit Tigers got swept.

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Posted 6/2/2009

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Let’s Watch Two!

by Todd Herges

Bright dawn blue sky
Cubbies play at 1:05.

Dad, Mom, sons, daughter
Head like lambs unto the slaughter..

Ride aboard the red line El,
Hope that Z will throw it well.

See the green, the grass, the board,
Hope Dad’s cash he will not hoard.

See the wall, the bricks, the ivy,
Hope that Z K’s Junior Spivey.

Smell the stale beer, puke, and links
D Lee’s sitting – Dad’s heart sinks.

But then Aramis hits a double,
Spoils the no-no, causes trouble.

Up in the booth a new guest sings
But not like Harry’s echoed rings.

One son for extra innings thanks
This day was one for Ernie Banks.

As Holly wraps it up so well,
The family knows the day’s been swell.

Then back aboard the loud red train
To the hotel – it looks like rain.

Glad it held off for these few hours,
Maybe thanks to higher powers,

Hack and Harry and Chance and Brown
Stand in the clouds and look straight down

Into the green grass lined by Waveland,
Sheffield, Addison – Chicago’s Graceland.

They held back rain, they hold back tears,
Been over a goddamn hundred years.

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Posted 5/28/2009

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Naked Citi

by Jeffrey Felshman

The first fan on Citi Field
ran first to second base,
was taken down in center field,
and hustled out of the place.

With a stuffed and fuzzy monkey
placed over his manly jewels,
preventing unwanted scrutiny,
he was nearly but  not totally nude.

This was five years in planning, he’d said,
and in the top of the fifth, he’d stripped.
To seize his moment in history, he’d meant,
and from his front row seat, he’d leapt.

But history ain’t what it used to be,
and streaking into this category fits.
Historically speaking, streakers
strip down to the last of their bits.

This one couldn’t bear to be bare,
he couldn’t go all the way.
His plan wasn’t all the way there,
his triumph a partial display.

Now, history isn’t written by the winners,
it’s digitally uploaded by upstarts,
chronicling a continual parade
of missing and lesser parts.

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Posted 5/18/09