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The Ghost Seats of Yankee Stadium

by James Finn Garner

I was warmly surprised

That the new Yankee Stadium

Has all those spare seats

(And good ones, too!)

For the ghosts of all the fans

In the Yankee Universe who never made it there:

The Bowery Bum who could never buy a ticket,

The upstate farmer who could never spare time,

The soldier who fought alongside Joltin’ Joe and never made it back,

The street kid who played catch with junk and never had a chance, at anything.

 

I bet a Bombers game on the radio

Was sometimes a cooling touch of silk that eased their minds,

And Yankee Stadium unseen was

A green heaven they didn’t know they wished for.

 

Now they’re behind home plate,

Feet up, leaning back,

Making good use of the space.

Here’s to them,

And to the good-hearted Yankees.

 

Posted 6/4/2009

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Let’s Watch Two!

by Todd Herges

Bright dawn blue sky
Cubbies play at 1:05.

Dad, Mom, sons, daughter
Head like lambs unto the slaughter..

Ride aboard the red line El,
Hope that Z will throw it well.

See the green, the grass, the board,
Hope Dad’s cash he will not hoard.

See the wall, the bricks, the ivy,
Hope that Z K’s Junior Spivey.

Smell the stale beer, puke, and links
D Lee’s sitting – Dad’s heart sinks.

But then Aramis hits a double,
Spoils the no-no, causes trouble.

Up in the booth a new guest sings
But not like Harry’s echoed rings.

One son for extra innings thanks
This day was one for Ernie Banks.

As Holly wraps it up so well,
The family knows the day’s been swell.

Then back aboard the loud red train
To the hotel – it looks like rain.

Glad it held off for these few hours,
Maybe thanks to higher powers,

Hack and Harry and Chance and Brown
Stand in the clouds and look straight down

Into the green grass lined by Waveland,
Sheffield, Addison – Chicago’s Graceland.

They held back rain, they hold back tears,
Been over a goddamn hundred years.

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Posted 5/28/2009

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Baseball Dreams

by Charles Ghigna

In memory of Jack Marsh,
second baseman, Yale University, 1943

Before the bayonet replaced the bat,
Jack Marsh played second base for Yale;
his spikes anchored into the August clay,
his eyes set deep against the setting sun.

The scouts all knew his numbers well,
had studied his sure hands that flew
like hungry gulls above the grass;
but Uncle Sam had scouted too,

had chosen first the team to play
the season’s final game of ’44,
had issued him another uniform
to wear into the face of winter moon

that shone upon a snowy plain,
where players played a deadly game,
where strikes were thrown with each grenade,
and high pitched echoes linger still.

Beyond the burned-out foreign fields
and boyhood dreams of bunts and steals,
young Jack Marsh is rounding third
and sliding, sliding safely home.

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Charles Ghigna is the award-winning author of more than 40 volumes of poetry for children and adults, including Score: 50 Poems to Motivate and Inspire.  Find out more at his website, Father Goose.

Posted 5/26/2009

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From an Old Goat’s Notebook

by Sid Yiddish

“Baaah-ter up,” it bawls.
The old goat rises from its pen.
It’s got work to do before the clock strikes half past 10.

Time to prepare itself, for the annual sacrificial legend.
Just before the onslaught of the newly christened season of ballplayers checking themselves out and each other and the fans and the sports media doing the constant scrutinizing and studying to see if they match up just right.

“For my job, I admit it’s harder, and I get told often that I should quit while I’m ahead, but no, not quite yet.
Those Cubs will never win
As long as I’m alive!

“So here’s a toast to the Cubs,
To Chicago’s finest boys in blue,
(Not the cops, mind you).
May you go through another 162 games loveless and hopeless, till you slip away like so many fantasies of years gone by.
Ah yes!
Don’t cry, sweet Chicago, don’t cry!”

For more on Sid Yiddish’s poetry, music and performances, check out his My Space page.

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Posted 5/21/09

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Instant Replay Creates Perfect World

By James Finn Garner

.

Now that cameras can detect and correct
Our errors and human frailty,
I call for a replay of

Fidrych talking to the ball,
Reggie hitting in October,
Bob Gibson staring,
Koufax stretching,
Veeck laughing,

DiMaggio’s war years,
And Hank Greenberg’s,

And 1994, which could have saved the Expos,
And spared us the Nationals,

And Cap Anson shutting his damned mouth
And Buck O’Neil playing for the Cubs,
Satchel Paige for the A’s,
And Cool Papa Bell for the Cardinals.

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Posted 5/14/09