By Stuart Shea
It was 40 years ago today
The Bums came to ‘Lanta to play
Al Downing tried to pitch with style,
But Hank hit the ball a country mile.
So let me introduce to you—the righty with the mighty swing…
Henry Aaron’s record-breaking bomb !
The brand new edition of Stu’s book, Wrigley Field: The Long Life and Contentious Times of the Friendly Confines, is on sale now.
by Stephen Jones
Critics of baseball always complain:
“Speed it up. The game’s too slow. ”
Look elsewhere, they often chime,
For proof. But to a clock-driven show?
Baseball is not the NFL,
Where starts and stops rush pellmell.
Baseball is not the NHL,
Where fights and goals are the sell.
Baseball is not the NBA,
Where endless timeouts hold the day.
Maybe more common sense could be used,
Maybe more strikes should be called . . .
These are arguments on which fans linger
Long after the day’s game is over.
Baseball, a game of numbers, is in play
In a stadium beyond time’s sway.
By Stuart Shea
An Appel a day
Would keep the losses away
But he’s not yet ripe.
Ask A. Moreno–
Trout fishing in Cali
Can be expensive.
Free and well-favored,
No-names and others’ castoffs
Find their own success.
East coast import
Finds rain not to his liking
Even under roof.
Wash likes sac bunting.
His fellow skippers are glad
To accept the out.
by Philip Pecorino
On which eyes must be fixed by all,
that orb which provides the game with half its name,
held by the defense as in no other team game.
Of materials simple or mixed:
spherical rock or cowhide and stitches,
bundle of yarn, rolled up sock,
no matter of regulation or meeting specifications:
to be held and caressed, tossed, hurled, thrown and caught nonetheless.
The object of pulverization by the offense
and of possession by the defense,
of dreams held in small hands under covers at bedtime
of desire caught fair or foul by fans in stands during game time.
Scuffed scratched or dirtied,
taken out of play in the majors,
hide half off, still of use in the sandlots.
At the same time its condition is not important at all while its importance is all,
For Phil’s reflections on the base, check out his poem from last fall.
by Stuart Shea
Can the Sox play tough?
White indicates purity…
Are dirty suits allowed?
If only Swisher
Struck out more often…but then,
Truth ain’t poetry.
The old roar is gone…
No more sneaking cigarettes.
It’s a young man’s turn.
It is difficult
To keep from strangling youth with
Mauer ain’t sour,
He’s heretofore banished from
Those bad Twins hurlers.