The Cowboy Wore a Cubs Hat

by Todd Herges

It’s mid-September and I’m driving
on a perfectly-paved asphalt road
in the Sandhills of Nebraska.  Highway 11
North out of Burwell leads me toward a wedding
in Atkinson, where bridal parties ride to receptions
on flatbed trailers pulled behind pickups – rural limousines.

My kids are with me … the one prone to
carsickness up front, and three in back all happily
listen to my plagiarized story about the
Indian Scare of 1864 and the two young brothers
shot dead by Sioux arrows on a frozen Wood River,
near our home, now many miles to the South.

We’ve already discussed the trip home:
when we’ll leave the reception; what we’ll listen to
on the radio – if we can pick up any station; if my
thirteen-year-old daughter may practice her driving.
The Cubs won out over the Huskers and pop music,
though as it later turned out, NPR was our only choice – and was just fine.

It’s been exactly 100 years since the Baby Bears
last won a world championship, and it’s looking
like THIS MIGHT BE THE YEAR,
though I’ve warned the boys this late-season,
top-of-the-standings situation has been seen before
many times.

As we round the curve just north of the Amelia cut-off
I lift my right foot, move it left, and press down lightly
to slow the car, for facing us
in the ditch to my right, between fence and road,
trot three dozen head of black angus cattle, kept in a tight
group by five cowboys on horseback.

A couple of steers near the lead break off to their right,
hoofs hitting highway, wide eyes a little surprised by their
independence and blustery desire to go where they please.
Heading these renegades off at the pass comes a young
Bud drinker on his steed, jeans chap-covered,
head shaded with a surprising cap.

Mostly royal blue, including the bill,
with a white front on which is stitched
in faded red a familiar circular C.
It’s just like the ones I see on TV
atop college kids and retirees
sitting behind home plate or over the vines.

And it’s here, in Nebraska,
on a road less travelled than any I’ve ever seen.
And the fabric of our country,
it now seems to me,
just got stitched a little tighter.

Published 7/21/09

Making the Call

By Stuart Shea

Is it worse when an umpire blows a call
Or when a player–in righteous anger–makes a mockery of it all?

It’s hard to support bad umpiring work
But who wants to watch some player act like a jerk?

Why don’t we even it out.
Let’s increase fan applause-o.
Let’s make umpiring-baiting legal
And let plate umpires call batters out like Enrico Palazzo!

Published 7/20/09

A New Legacy I Could Believe In

by Sid Yiddish

Legend has it, that in Chicago there are two winning baseball teams.

Ha!

I’d like to believe that one, although the die-hard fans would argue this point for days, weeks, months and years, but I just don’t have time to listen to all the ups & downs, the theories, the conspiracies and all those “what ifs.”

What if the Cubs won the World Series?
What if the White Sox won another World Series within three years?
What if baseball fans in this town rooted for another team altogether and just gave up on the Cubs and White Sox?

What if by some miraculous circumstance, the Cubs and White Sox found some leadership, corralled all of their players together, organized a mentoring program for those of them, not in-the-know and brought them into the fold of knowing and understanding what the game of baseball in Chicago means to fans like me?

Now, that’s a new legacy I could believe in.

Published 7/15/09

A Twins Fan Meditates on the ’09 Twins-Yanks Season Series

By Kevin Hennessy

Four-game sweep at New Yankee Stadium
With two less walkoffs, we could have took two of ‘em;
Then swept three games at home in the dome
Maybe next year outside we might manage to win one.

A-Rod, Jeter, Teixiera, Cano
They all make it tough, no denying, I know.
But Cabrera, Gardner, Cervelli, and Coke–
Are these really Yankees, or regular blokes?

Gardenhire insists
There’s no mental angle,
But if that truly is so
Couldn’t one win be finagled?

Perhaps those Bronx Bombers inspire intimidation
And Mauer and Morneau alone can’t deny them
Losing all seven certainly wasn’t too great
But at least we can be grateful we aren’t playing eight.

Published 7/12/09

Yankees: Minnesota, May You Always Play Against Us

by Hart Seely

Justin Morneau, Denard Span,
Each of them, a special man.
Jason Kubel, Jason Pride,
Promising a pleasant ride.

Michael Cuddyer, Joe Mauer,
Every game, a happy hour.
Carlos Gomez, Jesse Crain,
I would play them all again!

R.A. Dickey, old Joe Crede,
Yielding to us, if we’re needy.
Minnesota! Humphrey Dome!
‘Neath thy roof, we feel at home.

Published 7/10/09

Hart Seely is the author of  Mother Goose Goes to Washington, as well as Oh Holy Cow: The Selected Verse of Phil Rizzuto, newly released in a 15th-anniversary edition. He often hangs around the Yankee website, It is High, It is Far, It is….caught, offering tasteful and constructive comments to management and players alike.