November Classic

by James Finn Garner

Soler’s a basher, but Dusty’s hexed,
Fried the first winning Jew since Koufax–
Between cheating and chop,
Though, I for one hop
Next year’s series will lack for subtext.

The End Putrefies the Means

by James Finn Garner

Max Scherzer had Flores’ number
Had always buzz-sawed his lumber
Then the ump blew the call
Not a checked swing at all
And gave a classic the whiff of a dumpster.

 

The Interregnum

by Paul Kocak

Between now and then
Suspended in time
Before the first pitch
A gnawing itch
A nervous tic
Between toss and take
Throw and swing
Stand Mr. and Mrs. History
Waiting to declare
Victory or defeat
Win or loss
Destiny vs. legacy
Giants or Dodgers
Batter up, ye immortals!

 

Hub Pruett

by Michael Ceraolo

Shucks, baseball is a great game
And one of the best things about it
is the mystery of when form doesn’t hold;
I’ll use myself as an example
In my first season, plus his first appearance
against me in my second season,
I struck out Babe Ruth ten times in thirteen at-bats;
he only had two hits in those at-bats, one a home run,
and in addition had three walks
If that wasn’t in “Ripley’s Believe It or Not,”
it should have been; I think that stat alone
probably kept me in the big leagues longer
than my pitching against all others warranted,
and that allowed me to put myself through medical school
The Babe did better against me after that beginning,
but I am eternally grateful to him
for my moment in the sun.