Scott Spiezio, Party Animal
by Stu Shea
Spiezio, O Spiezio,
Grungy hard-rock sleazy-o,
Your clean-and-sober act last year
Apparently a tease-e-o.
Driving drunk and skeezy-o?
Defending that’s not easy-o.
The Cardinals chose to cut you
When their lawyers got all queasy-o.
You should have left the keys-e-o.
It could have been a breeze-e-o.
But justice may command that you
Be put inside the freezy-o.
Posted 4/4/08
Ballpark Food
by Todd Pheifer
What’s wrong with these vendors
Loudly hawking their wares?
An arm and a leg for a beer,
And nobody cares!
Of course I can hold off,
But my kids are entranced
With the cotton candy man
Weaving sugary romance.
He comes down the row,
Waving food at eye level.
Away from us, man!
Your food is the devil!
We’ve brought our own, thanks,
Smuggled in Mom’s big pack,
Peanuts and popcorn
And goodies for snacks.
So enjoy the ballpark
And the shifting strike zone,
But if you want to eat there,
Better take out a loan.
Posted 9/28/07
An Ode to Wild Bill Hagy (1938-2007)
By Stuart Shea
Wild Bill Hagy was an Orioles fan,
Looked like most any other big man,
Belly hanging low over loose blue jeans,
Full of cold beer and likewise of beans.
Back in the days ‘fore Camden Yards,
When the orange-clad O’s held all the cards,
Wild Bill Hagy was a half-crazed horse
Who pawed his ground as a cheerleading force.
He stood on the dugout during each game
And spelled out “Orioles” with his mighty frame.
Every O’s fan from near and far
Watched Wild Bill—he became a star.
The years rolled on and the O’s declined,
They left Memorial for a new state of mind.
Hagy didn’t lead cheers at the new park,
The team’s new owners didn’t like that spark.
And now he’s gone, though memories hold,
Of the glorious days of Orioles old,
Of Weaver and Murray, Palmer and Cal,
Dempsey, Roenicke, Pat Kelly, and Al.
Gimme an H!
Gimme an A!
Gimme a G!
Gimme a Y!
What’s that spell?
Posted 8/29/2007
