Browse all poems and songs in the 'History' Category


For It’s One, Two, Three…

by Jim Siergey

No poking of eyes or skull crack
No choking or pies or face smack
No choice to pick two
Or Woo Woo Woo Woo!
The Stooges revere Connie Mack!

 

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The Love Song of J. Alfred Bleacherbum

By Bill Savage and James Finn Garner

Let us go then, you and I,
Where Wrigley’s spread out against the sky
Like the Cardinals etherized down the standings;
Let us go, through half-constructed streets,
Muttering about our seats
Of restless day and night games and new hotels
And vanished sawdust taverns that never served an oyster:
Streets that flow with tedious arguments
Of where to spend your cents
To bleed you to an overwhelming debt–
Oh, do not ask, “How much is it?”
Let us go, stand in line and make our visit…

In barrooms, fans come and go
Talking of Maddon, Jed ‘n’ Theo.

 

Bill Savage is an associate professor and adviser for the Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences at Northwestern University. Follow him on Twitter at @RogersParkMan, where this poem first appeared. 



Baseball Observation

by Stephen Jones

Most strikeouts and home runs in a season…
No, this was no “ball in play” season,
And everything wasn’t between the lines.

And maybe — somewhere — there is a reason
For records broken like stretched-out twine…
But just now, analytics don’t come to mind.

Maybe baseball’s met up with fiction?
Like Redford hit one into perdition?
(Dunno. In movies, metrics are out of season.)

 



How Cleveland Ended Baseball

by James Finn Garner

“Grandpa, tell me once again
How the Tribe could never lose.”
“Well, kid, in August of ’17
They was playing good, quick and loose,

“When the Boston Carmines came to town–
A purt good team, or so I heard–
Bauer climbed upon the mound
And crikey, a miracle occurred!

“Might’ve been magic, or a curse,
Or blasted divine intervention
But they plum forgot how to lose.
Game in, game out, no apprehension,

“The Tribe just kept on winning!
Like the sun a-rising in the east
When come the final inning,
Francona’s boys just rose like yeast.

“It’s been 15 years or more, I reckon,
Since that team has notched an L.
Never trailing nor choking for a second,
From first of March to closing bell.”

“Grandpa, what about the other teams?”
“They just broke up, one by one.
No league no more, because it seems
With no fair chance, the game ain’t no fun.”

 



Would Triples Still Go There to Die?

by the Village Elliott

Here at Jints’ game I had this thought,
When “can of corn” in sun-field’s caught:
When Giants moved to Candlestick,
The Senior Circuit feared Mays’ stick,
Knew “Say Hey” was the only guy
Whose triples fell where others’ died;
In basket-web of Willie’s glove,
By Grace of sweet Talullah’s love.

But, if Mays played at ATT,
Just how great would his career be
While patrolling Triples Alley
To left-center’s deep Death Valley?
Would triples still go there to die?
What reason is there to deny,
That to these fans now sitting here
Willie is worth more here each year?

 

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