Mid-Spring Beat Up

by James Finn Garner

Can our boy Judge come out to play?
At noon our foursome tees up.
Sorry, fellas, not today,
He’s sorta mid-spring beat up.

That man Aaron is one hunk of thirst,
The girls at the club wanna meet up.
No no, ladies, training comes first,
He’s a bit mid-spring beat up.

At the hotel, the maids are asking,
Can Judge ever put the seat up?
Bending over? That’s multitasking
For someone mid-spring beat up.

Should I renew my season seats,
Watch my savings get eat up?
Baseball gives your pains surcease
‘Til you get mid-spring beat up.

 

GOAT of the Booth

by Bill Cushing

Who’d’ve bet on this: That on the Second of August
in the Monkeypox year, instead of young Juan Soto,
the rising star wearing the mantle of Mickey,
we’d end the day focused on a 94-year-old
who always looked at home in a suit and tie
by the name of Scully? Vin made sports poetry;
his voice, a singularity of euphonic tones; his iconic prose
turned handheld Made-in-Japan radios into conduits
of prolific knowledge. He was able to share stories
that made men mythic—from Hammerin’ Hank Aaron
breaking the Babe’s record, his 715th hit to left, out of the park,
even football’s “Catch” from “Joe Cool” to Dwight Clark,
and he did it with wit, the way Shakespeare viewed it.
Now the Dodgers embark on the next stage of place;
they’ve lost their last connection to Brooklyn.
Everywhere, fans wept, feeling no disgrace.

A former New Yorker, Bill Cushing lives and writes in Los Angeles as a Dodger fan (by order of his wife!). His latest collection, Just a Little Cage of Bone (Southern Arizona Press), contains this and other sports-related poems.

 

Nothing to Hide Here

by James Finn Garner

This season’s new sheer slacks
Provide some things the game now lacks

A visible swing, a casual sashay
As sometimes seen in the NBA

New fans may be attracted!
Other players (no names, please) distracted

Gabby coaches will look like fools
When yapping about a player’s tools

And the evidence will add a new wrinkle
To discussion of anyone’s “launch angle.”

 

Life is Good

by James Finn Garner

Winter’s been raw as a campout in Banff,
Your new basement walls are moldy and damp,
Your curtains caught fire from a knocked-over lamp —
.      Relax!
.      Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.

Your check-writing hand’s developed a cramp,
Your bills are all due and you ain’t got a stamp,
Creditors cling to your neck like a clamp —
.      Smile!
.      Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.

Your yard is now split by a new freeway ramp,
Your son is engaged to a gold-digging tramp,
Your “guitar hero” neighbor’s just bought a new amp —
.      Life is good!
.      Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.