Came out of high school, stayed in Texas awhile
Seems he just couldn’t make it all seem worthwhile
He’s movin’ on. He’s movin’ on.
Rangers said “So long son, go enjoy the sun”
He’s Marlin gone.

Minor leagues kept trading, kept cutting him loose
Never was the engine, just a little caboose
Seven years rolled on, they just moved on.
Finally majored a run in 2000 and 1
Would they keep him on?

Another year came and another deal too,
Milwaukee got him in 2002,
He still moved on, he was there and gone.
Led the league in base steals, tried to keep it real,
But they moved him on.

Chicago was home for a few good years
Got a World Series ring, a girl with bunny ears,
He’s carryin’ on, maybe he’ll stay on.
But another year came, and another ball game,
He packed and was gone.

Up in the mountains, till 2009,
Back to bat that year in the White Sox line,
Another movin’ on, another hometown gone.
Even though he had fans, Chicago had other plans
And they let him move on.

One year with the Royals, still stealing some base,
Let him go to the Dodgers, problems slowing his pace.
Trouble movin’ on, released and on his own.
Try up North, play the West, half-a-year at best
So he’s movin’ on.

Finally landed in Philly, more like Lackawanna
Scranton doesn’t really sound like baseball nirvana.
Will he be movin’ on?  Sing that travelin’ song?
Thirteen teams, eighteen years, Hard to change your gears
And keep movin’ on.

Permissible or not
There seems to be a drought
Of honesty afoot

Pitching maybe-perjury
Clemens seems for once
To be outta his league

His domineering stance
On the mound not found
Now drugs/performance

An arguance
More finger pointing it seems
As ugly truths are exhumed

Whiffed Piazza, Harold Baines,
Eric Davis, Hardrock Raines.
Batters swung and bade goodbye,
Carlos Beltran, Russell Dye.
BJ Surhoff, Albert Belle,
Junior Griffey, Pat Burrell.
None of them could solve his tricks.
Then the gods sent Jayson Nix.

Struck out Nomar, Randy Wynn,
Tori Hunter, Tony Gwynn.
Mighty bats would disappear,
Juan Gonzalez, Rusty Greer,
Jeffrey Hammond, Jim Thome,
Julio Franco, Jason Bay.
Silent went their famous sticks.
Then the gods sent Jayson Nix.

At 41, not nearly through,
ERA still under two.
Twelve times in the All-Star game,
Sure bet for the Hall of Fame.
Greatest pitcher still alive,
Could have gone ’till 45.
Who among us saw the fix
When the gods sent Jayson Nix?

Hart Seely’s dangerous book, The Juju Rules, is available now in bookstores and at Amazon.

Check out the rest of their music and support the Isotopes by visiting http://theisotopes.bandcamp.com.

A Brave young slugger,
A two-time VP,
A five-time Gold Glover
Who wore number 3.

A role-model teammate
Without ego or rage,
A clean-living player
In a steroid age.

Two home runs short
Of a trip to the Hall,
His legacy waits
To fly over the wall.

Charles Ghigna (Father Goose) is a poet, children’s author, speaker and nationally syndicated feature writer. He has written more than 60 award-winning books of poetry and been reprinted extensively, even in the ACT and SAT tests.

Say “Hi” to “The Kid”

who never missed a beat/bat
of enthusiasm & protocol

even when his locker room
teammates were elsewhere

who believed baseball is a game
not of dollars & nonsense

who never cursed ‘cept once
in Game 6 the ’86 World Series

when on first base he swore
“I will not lose this damn game”

heart owning the whole thing
& who maintained a standard

beyond “behind home plate”
& something we could all learn from

Jamie Moyer, long of tooth,
Nabs a win at 49.
Never pitched to ol’ Babe Ruth
But babysat him one time.

Michael X. Ferraro is a TV writer/producer and author of Numbelievable: The Dramatic Stories Behind the Most Memorable Numbers in Sports History and Tased & Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.

President Lincoln, skip that show!
Amelia Earhart, please don’t go!
Dillinger, don’t trust that vamp!
Joba, please . . . avoid that tramp.

JFK, don’t take that ride!
Dr. King, sir, stay inside!
Julius Caesar, ditch that crown!
Joba, jump . . . just don’t come down.

Gorbachev, tear down this wall!
America, free beer for all!
Mariano, please don’t go!
Joba . . . say it isn’t so.

Hart Seely’s new book, The Juju Rules: Or How to Win Ballgames from Your Couch, is now in bookstores.  He also runs the essential Yankee blog, It Is High, It Is Far, It Is . . . caught.

How thin-skinned Red Sox players
Seemingly are off-stage
Dramatically running to defend
“Slighted” comrade Youkilis

It seems nothing in Boston functions
Without turmoil
And there’s no such thing as “just a blip”
On Boston’s radar

So what’s next in Bean . . . no
“Diva” Town?
Saddle up City of Boston
For a bumpy summer stage

The Northwest, known for its lumber,
Was at a loss to figure Phil Humber
Who deftly dialed the M’s number
In shadows, sun and penumber.
Could Starbucks have ended their slumber?
No matter, their bats were encumbered
In a masterpiece, shaded in umber,
The perfecto for new ace, Phil Humber