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On Not Being Able to Say Aloud That WALKS KILL YOU

by Todd Herges

A dozen young boys,
caps colored alike,
dream diamond greatness
and shiny steel spikes.

But theirs are mere rubber,
no hair under arms.
They play just for love
and to earn coach’s charm.

Pitching is paramount.
Throwing strikes is the key.
Walks always kill,
issue two and you’ll see.

Don’t aim or you’ll miss,
hear the fat lady’s song.
The leash will be short,
the ump’s sweat stains grow long.

But these hairless boys
with soft cleats, fragile confidence,
hear the boos amid boosts,
and need upbeat assurance.

So I pick a distraction,
my disgust notwithstanding,
and I say:  “Nothin’ hurt,
mind your foot where it’s landing.”

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Posted 5/19/2009

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Naked Citi

by Jeffrey Felshman

The first fan on Citi Field
ran first to second base,
was taken down in center field,
and hustled out of the place.

With a stuffed and fuzzy monkey
placed over his manly jewels,
preventing unwanted scrutiny,
he was nearly but  not totally nude.

This was five years in planning, he’d said,
and in the top of the fifth, he’d stripped.
To seize his moment in history, he’d meant,
and from his front row seat, he’d leapt.

But history ain’t what it used to be,
and streaking into this category fits.
Historically speaking, streakers
strip down to the last of their bits.

This one couldn’t bear to be bare,
he couldn’t go all the way.
His plan wasn’t all the way there,
his triumph a partial display.

Now, history isn’t written by the winners,
it’s digitally uploaded by upstarts,
chronicling a continual parade
of missing and lesser parts.

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Posted 5/18/09

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Instant Replay Creates Perfect World

By James Finn Garner

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Now that cameras can detect and correct
Our errors and human frailty,
I call for a replay of

Fidrych talking to the ball,
Reggie hitting in October,
Bob Gibson staring,
Koufax stretching,
Veeck laughing,

DiMaggio’s war years,
And Hank Greenberg’s,

And 1994, which could have saved the Expos,
And spared us the Nationals,

And Cap Anson shutting his damned mouth
And Buck O’Neil playing for the Cubs,
Satchel Paige for the A’s,
And Cool Papa Bell for the Cardinals.

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Posted 5/14/09

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Maple Bat, Maple Bat

By Stuart Shea

Maple bat, Maple bat
Shearing off in two-foot slats.
Spirals through the air, and splat–

Maple bat, Maple bat
Got that fan right in the lat,
Then on the bounce, took out a rat.

Maple bat, Maple bat
Nearly deadly as a gat,
Sharp enough to skin a cat.

Maple bat, Maple bat,
Time to wear a different hat.
Put these weapons in a vat.

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Posted 5/13/09

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Manny Ramirez: When News Isn’t News

by James Finn Garner

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Erstwhile Dodger savior Manny:
Did we doubt it’d come out like this?
If a story leaked you were a tranny,
The world would maybe feel amiss.

Our revulsion might yet arise
If cameras caught you fondling grannies,
But frankly it’s no big surprise
That juicing’s Manny being Manny.

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Posted 5/11/09