Browse all poems and songs in the 'Management' Category


Game 2 — Indians 9, Yankees 8

by Stephen Jones

Hard to figure–how Joe Girardi
Suddenly became a headlight-deer,
When he didn’t challenge a call
Last Friday night.

Sure, we saw it all
(Via instant replay’s unerring broadcast)
And it was clear that the ball
Had ricochet’d off the knob
Of a Chisenhall bat
(And, rightly, it shoulda been called
A not-hit-by-pitch foul ball).

Yep, it probably swung the game.
The Yankees went on to blow
Their five-run lead, and the Indians
Won it– 9 to 8. Now it seems

Everyone’s yelling “Off
With his head!” like an angry mob,
But not me. After all, since
2008, the Yankees can boast
The best winning percentage
In all the league–and that’s
All been on Joe Girardi’s watch.

 



News of the Tweak

By James Finn Garner

Max Scherzer’s hammie has a “tweak”
Something we’ll hear of all week
But the real speculation, my dear, is
“How will Dusty blow this series?”

 



Imagined Commentary During a Game

by Stephen Jones

During a game, a commentator —
an ex-ball player — once said:
a manager’s job is hard.

“OK, so you’ve got twenty-five
children in a dugout …
and each one wants to be
treated just so different.

“I mean, it’s hard … I mean,
they all love to play the game,
right? But when you got children,
I mean, grown men who mebbe

“don’t wanna grow up, well,
then the manager’s got to be
part teacher, part mentor …
and also some kind of juggler.

“And all this while skating on thin ice —
dealing with egos and tantrums
and you-name-it?… No, no thank you.
Hey, believe me, I’m glad I got the

“chance to play in big league games —
that’ll never go away — but dealin’
with all that other stuff? No way.”

 



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.”

 



Battered Bengals

by Millie Bovich

It’s sad watching Tigers go slumping,
All season they’ve taken their lumping.
So they circle the drain
With their fans all in pain–
Is it time now for manager dumping?

 
Millie Bovich may be the senior regular contributor to Bardball. “I had the pleasure of meeting  All-Star Johnny Pesky when he visited the Detroit office of the FBI where I worked,” she writes, “and met and married a special agent from New York and made a Tigers fan out of him!”

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.