by Fred Lovato
Hey LA Angels
you’ve got Trout & Ohtani
yet your team stinks. Why?
Mid-Season Yankees Limerick Roundup
by Doug K.
Starting Pitching
It seemed at the dawn of the year
That our starters were something to fear.
Cole, Rodon, Nestor, Sevi —
Our staff was ace-heavy.
Now we wish we had back JP Sears.
Gerrit Cole
Gerrit Cole is the team’s only ace.
Twenty wins? He is close to the pace.
But when he gets a bad call,
The next pitch clears the wall.
You can tell by the look on his face.
Carlos Rodon
The deal for Rodon really sucks.
Often injured, he still got the bucks.
It made him quite rich.
Maybe one day he’ll pitch.
Our front office is run by a schmuck.
Nestor Cortez
Like Tiant and Bartolo Colon,
No one knew what pitch Nestor was thow’n.
Hitters no longer have doubt.
Did they figure him out?
Or was his greatness overblown?
Luis Severino
When not hurt, Luis can pitch great.
But often, it’s not worth the wait.
Something’s always off.
What’s next? Whooping cough?
At what point do we just cut bait?
German and Schmidt
They’re both number fives, this is true.
Forced to pitch like they were one or two.
Sure, we got a perfecto . . .
Also, lots of dreckto.
So, let’s see what Brito can do.
Extra Limerick: Frankie Montas!
For Frankie we gave up a ton
To land our second number one.
But our hopes are gone, oh!
He’s another Pavano
Who throws off flat ground just for fun.
These lims first appeared on the indispensable Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is … caught.
Bill Veeck
by Michael Ceraolo
I don’t think I was a genius
by any objective measurement,
but it wasn’t hard to seem like one
compared to most of the other owners,
who considered attendance at the games
to be the fans’ religious obligation
My treating baseball as a business
that had to attract its customers
with a good product and fun at the park
was derided as heresy
(though many of my ideas were soon copied)
And that wasn’t their only resort to mystical nonsense:
they first fought, and then severely limited, night games
Just imagine:
running a business whose hours of operation
(set by you)
preclude the vast majority of customers
from patronizing your business.
More Mets Haiku
by Patrick Hogan
Steve Cohen sighing
How can this be happening
Showalter burns sage
A’s to Las Vegas!
Old bay city with a baseball team
Once the home of Moneyball
Playing in what looks like an airplane hangar
Or Appalachian shopping mall
But the owner doesn’t think he’s milking enough
Fields a team full of losers and scrubs
And dares the local fans if they’ve had enough
A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!
Old city sort of offered a deal
But Vegas had a lot more flash
Fisher didn’t get as rich as he is
By expending his own cash
East Bay lore disappears in smoke
Swingin’ A’s, Bash Brothers tossed in a poke
Nevada taxpayers, get ready to choke…
A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!
Sin City got them legal hookers,
All-day casinos and sports book bookers,
Booze, coke, poppers and meth,
Donny Osmond, Penn & Teller,
And machine gun rental…
Sitting at a ballgame?
They might as well check if you’re dead!
So money talks and bullshit walks
An old credo, tried and true,
Leverage turns soon into blackmail
While the regular guys get screwed
Get ready for baseball the Vegas way
The rock-hard infield is ready to play
And more empty seating than Tampa Bay
A’s to Las Vegas! A’s to Las Vegas!
A’s to … A’s to …
Las Vegas!