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Misery is the Name of the Game

by Sid Yiddish

We’re going back…back…back…

Hey! Hey! There’s a game today, but I’m not going.

No, I can’t afford it.

Seems to me only the privileged and the drunkards get to go and root for their team in the miserable Chicago rain, but misery is the name of the game, when the Cubbies are concerned.

So, like…are they truly worth the throngs of fans who become viciously unruly when the boys in blue are losing, or do they just booze it up with that last cupful of beer and when a swig is taken, realize that it’s just empty like that bullpen at the last half of the 6th?

It is neither magic, but perhaps more myth.

That, well, what if the Cubs were to win another pennant and go all the way and win that silver loving ashtray…

Keep dreaming losers, keep dreaming.

Posted 4/28/08 

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Ode to the Pontiff

By Doug White

The Pope in his big funny hat
Gave mass where Joe Torre once sat

A little old lady
Said, “Well yea, but maybe

What would Ron Blomberg say about that?”

Posted 4/21/08 

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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