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Baseball Cards

by Dan Quisenberry  (KC Royals, 1979-1988)

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that first baseball card I saw myself
in a triage of rookies
atop the bodies
that made the hill
we played king of
I am the older one
the one on the right
game-face sincere
long red hair unkempt
a symbol of the ’70s
somehow a sign of manhood
you don’t see
how my knees shook on my debut
or my desperation to make it

the second one I look boyish with a gap-toothed smile
the smile of a guy who has it his way
expects it
I rode the wave’s crest
of pennant and trophies
I sat relaxed with one thought
“I can do this”
you don’t see
me stay up till two
reining in nerves
or post-game hands that shook involuntarily

glory years catch action shots
arm whips and body contortions
a human catapult
the backs of those cards
cite numbers
that tell stories of saves, wins, flags, records
handshakes, butt slaps, celebration mobs
you can’t see
the cost of winning
lines on my forehead under the hat
trench line between my eyes
you don’t see my wife, daughter and son
left behind

the last few cards
I do not smile
I grim-face the camera
tight lipped
no more forced poses to win fans
eyes squint
scanning distance
crow’s-feet turn into eagle’s claws
you don’t see
the quiver in my heart
knowledge that it is over
just playing out the end

I look back
at who I thought I was
or used to be
now, trying to be funny
I tell folks
I used to be famous
I used to be good
they say
we thought you were bigger
I say
I was

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Published 9/2/2009

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Zay, Deceased

By John Shea

.Reflections on viewing an otherwise unidentified 1880s player listing in the old MacMillan baseball encyclopedia

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Unremembered:
Which hand you threw with.
When was your birthday.
How tall you stood.

The simple fact of your demise
A mere assumption, an
Actuarial extrapolation.
Perhaps you’re hanging on still somewhere,
Raging, shaking your fist at God.
Youneverknow.

What we can be sure of:
One fine afternoon,
Before some long-forgotten scribe,
You stood on a hill
And kissed infinity.

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Posted 8/21/2009

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Yorman’s Back!

By Stuart Shea

They couldn’t keep him down!
He’s back for another round.
The guy with the funny name
Has another chance at fame.

Make sure to fill out a brand new dance card-o!
Last night saw the return of Yorman Bazardo!

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Game Update!  by James Finn Garner

In his debut with the Astros — “Howdy there, Pard-o!” —
Yorman left the Fish battered and scarred-o
(Though with 10 hits, they might have starred-o).
Our young stud of his dignity keeps a shard-o.
When the ‘Stros play the Phils next, wherever the yard-o,
Yorman will hoist those Phools on their own petard-o!

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Posted 8/20/2009

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Pirate S#&@

by Stu Shea

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Freddie and Jack play for Pittsburgh,
Losers for many a year,
It’s not hard to see
That this century
Local fans want a winner to cheer.

The Pirate ship’s listing and lurching,
Taking on water and flies.
Nobody’s good
And it’s understood
That “untouchable” doesn’t apply.

Freddie and Jack want new contracts.
Fred can’t play second at all.
Jack cannot hit,
And the team’s for s#&@,
These guys ain’t en route to The Hall.

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Posted 8/18/2009

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Tunnel of Love

(Or, From Pitcher’s Hand to Catcher’s Glove)

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by Todd Herges

With apologies and thanks to Bruce Springsteen and Mark Knopfler

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In a screaming ring of faces
The fat man sits on a little stool
As my eyes take a walk all over you,
As his fingers take a walk in front of the cup.

Then the lights go out and it’s just the three of us:
Pitcher, catcher, batter.
Let it rock and let it roll
Down in through this tunnel of love.

Hey mister blue give me oh-two, give me oh and two ‘cause two can play this game.
But it’s only gonna be me playing tonight
With a mind, with a twig.
A little maple twig, soon to be shattered – if it’s dared put on my pitch.

Then the lights go out it’s just the three of us.
I’m laughing at you, you’re laughing at me,
But you’re a victim of my night
As I shoot an arrow through your heart.

You gotta learn to live with what you can’t rise above
The way my two finger rises and rides away
‘Cause it’s been money for muscle, another whiriligig,
And rockaway rockaway

On the tunnel of love. In this tunnel of love.

Down the pipe down the chute down the pike
I shoot the little seed,
The little pill-sized 5-ounce pea,
The tiny pea-sized 9-inch aspirin tablet,

Past you.

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posted 8/17/2009