Browse all poems and songs in the 'Players' Category


Full-on Collapse, Rhyming Dictionary Edition, Part 1

by Stu Shea

It’s most un-Athletic
To play so pathetic.
I’m quite empathetic,
But it ain’t copacetic
To lose one’s aesthetic
And become an emetic.
Perhaps a prosthetic
Would cure this pandemic,
Or maybe just someone who can hit a fsckin’ baseball.

 



Tommy John on the Mound

by Stephen Jones

If it were on New Year’s Day,
It’d be a parade of Shriners;
Instead, it’s big league play
And a procession of pitchers.

This is what I heard on TV
About the numbers “1″ and “3″:

Fully 1/3 – huge any season -
Of pitchers may need an operation.
That’s what actuaries did reason
After watching, so far, this season.

Mind you, future-projection
Is wide open for speculation.
But in truth, elbow wear-and-tear
For pitchers has gone up this year.

That’s just what I heard on TV
About the numbers “1″ and “3″.

Baseball is a game of calculation
And stats rule in the MLB.
Now, so does insurance, inflammation
And season-ending surgery.

“1/3” – it is part of an equation
Of which I would rather not see.

 



This is Just to Say, from the White Sox

by James Finn Garner

With apologies to William Carlos Williams

We have traded
Adam Dunn
who was clogging
the payroll

to the A’s
in a pennant race
for a bag
of rocks

Forgive us
he was ridiculous
so whiffable
and so old

 



Moe Berg

by The Village Elliott

Moe Berg was both a catcher and spy,
And the Big Leagues’ most erudite guy.
Spoke languages many,
But couldn’t hit in any
Unless curve ball hung up “lettered” high.

 

 



On Watching Buster Posey Hit Homers #6 and #7

By Stuart Shea

Not to be nosey,
Buster Posey,
But what has taken so long
For your bat to shower
The Giants with power?
I miss that “Bye Bye, Baby” song!

 

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