by Michael X. Ferraro
You should not take a lead on these Mets–
it will just lead to major regrets.
They show great restraint,
hit ’em where they ain’t,
and give rival fans real bad Tourette’s.
Why I Believe in Baseball Gods
by Ryan Diaz
Mets @ Brewers, Final Score: 4-2. METS WIN!
I’m only a pagan come October, when the
air cools and the leaves burn bright
and expectation fills the air like
incense spooling from marble altars,
and prayers like candles light the night.
And maybe Odin, after losing his bout
with Christ, figured an American pastime
.    would have to do, and Zeus
for all his thunder, settled for blessing bats,
heeding the prayers of grown men
.    who long after boyhood still wear
their baseball caps.
Maybe last night, one of them listened,
and in the bottom of the ninth worked
a little magic—and I, agnostic at best, atheist at worst
.    summoned up the faith
to ask for a blast over the right field fence.
Ryan Diaz is a writer and poet from Queens, NY. He is the author of three poetry books — For Those Wandering Along the Way (Wipf & Stock), Skipping Stones (Wipf & Stock) and The Wounded Monk — a chapbook of short poetry, Like Falling Leaves, and a novel, Abuelo: A Memoir. He lives in Queens, NY, with his wife Janiece and his son Damian, and is a lifelong (self-loathing) New York Mets fan.
Baseball Parity, Chicago Parody
by Dr. Rajesh C. Oza
Had the Dodgers
Lost just one more game,
This sub-600 season woulda been lame.
The winning percentage
Of most every other team,
Was surely a parity-lover’s dream.
Leaving aside the Angels, Marlins, Rockies,
And the historically bad White Sox,
All the other ballclubs had their shots.
Within sniffing distance of the wild card,
A couple of wins here and there
Woulda given your team a playoff share.
If the Mets and Tigers coulda
Advanced to the second round,
My Cubbies, too, shoulda stuck around.
Yeah, there may be MLB pair-a-tee,
But as Steve Goodman’s Dying Cubs Fans know
They still play the blues in Chi-ca-go.
Dr. Oza’s novel Double Play on the Red Line sits at the intersection of Ernie Banks’ Cubs, the Negro Leagues, riding the El, wrongful convictions, immigration and friendship. It will be published in October 2024 by Chicago’s Third World Press.
Two Lims for the Tiger Battery
by James Finn Garner
After Skubal slaps, shouts and shoves,
Hinch’s lineup card says “Any of the above.”
Starters, middle, bullpen?
“Pitching chaos” is in
A squad cardiac doctors can love.
Catching young Tiger pitchers, ol’ Jake
Rogers knows what each at-bat takes.
Low and out, high and in
He has learned what will win
When he calls for a pitch, please don’t shake.
Summer Wind, Yankees Style
by HoraceClarke66
The summer wind was blowin’ out
At least half the year.
When Soto hit and Judge ran wild,
And we dreamed of golden rings.
Two monsters and the summer wind.
Like painted kites
Those long-ball nights
They went flyin’ by.
The world was new
’Neath a pinstriped blue
Umbrella sky.
Then worse than
Poor Gleyber ran
Cashman sent it askew.
We lost it with the summer wind.
The autumn wind,
The winter wind
Will come and go.
As Giants fall,
And Knicks appall,
Through another barren winter.
And yes those days,
Those dismal days
Will drag on and on.
As Gleyber clings
And Soto brings
Cheer to Flushing Meadow.
Where the hell can we go?
We’ll just have to wait,
For that same-old, same-old summer wind.
Originally appeared in the indispensable Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is…caught.