Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
By Stuart Shea
Out of nowhere came The Riot
To beef up the Cubbie diet
Adding speed and walks to a slow, old, hacking club.
Maybe he’s no budding star,
But he’s done quite well so far,
And the fans enjoy his spirit as a Cub.
In the talk of Harden, Soto,
And Kosuke Fukudomo,
No one speaks of Theriot as MVP.
But without his OBP,
Where would the offense be?
There’d be no RBIs for Big D. Lee.
Uh, or A-Ram.
Posted 9/24/08
By Stuart Shea
You can’t cut the lawn
Like Carlos Z. pitches.
You’d lose hold of the mower
And get 80 stitches.
You can’t do your taxes
Like Carlos Z. throws.
You’d ball up receipts
And punch your own nose.
You can’t do brain surg’ry
Like Carlos Z. hurls.
Your patients would die
While you did angry twirls.
But there’s nothing like watching the dervish in blue
When he harnesses everything that he can do.
Just ask HOU.
Posted 9/17/08
by JHB
Goodbye, Manuel Aristides,
At times we all were far too cruel,
But you had the grace to point both hands
While smilin’ like a fool.
They disparaged you in the Herald,
Made innuendoes in the Globe.
They chased you all around the Hub,
Caught in flashbulbs like a strobe.
And it seems to me you lived your life
With your dreadlocks in the wind,
Steppin’ quickly in the Monster
Just to take a whiz,
And you would have been our hero,
But you were just a kid.
Your time here ran out long before
Your legend ever did.
Manny being Manny’s tough,
The toughest role you ever played,
But your bat made you a superstar,
And pain’s the price you paid.
Even when you left,
The press still had too much to say.
All that Boston.com would comment
Was that Manny didn’t want the trade.
And it seems to me you lived your life
With your dreadlocks in the wind,
Catchin’ flies and givin’ high-fives
Before you’d throw it in,
And you would have been our hero,
But you were just a kid,
Your time here ran out long before
Your legend ever did.
Goodbye, Manuel Aristides,
Though I never knew you at all,
You had the feel to play left field,
Fielding caroms off the Wall.
Goodbye, Manuel Aristides,
From the young boy in a Monster Seat,
Who saw you as something not so infantile,
Maybe what he would like to be,
And it seems to me you lived your life
With your dreadlocks in the wind,
If the role was just too much to bear,
It’s not as if you sinned,
And you would have been our hero,
But you were just a kid,
Your time here ran out long before,
Your legend ever did.
 Posted 9/10/08
by Mark Bazer
The Red Sox traded Manny.
It was the right thing to do.
He may spend hours in the cage
And put up stats to earn his wage,
But he didn’t hustle, he didn’t care.
His main priority was his hair.
The Red Sox traded Manny.
It was the right thing to do.
The Sox have youth, they’ll be OK,
But the same is true of Tampa Bay.
Battling fourth now is Youkilis.
The Sox are officially kook-i-less.
The Red Sox traded Manny,
I may stop caring, too.
Mark Bazer is a humor columnist for Tribune Media Services. You can find more of his work at markbazer.com.
Posted 9/1/08
By Stuart Shea
Being a Dodger used to mean something.
The blue, white and red,
An American team playing the game the right way.
Jackie, Newk, Campy, Junior Gilliam,
Duke Snider and Carl Furillo.
Drysdale and Sandy,
An integrated team in Brooklyn.
When did it start
To fall apart?
When O’Malley ripped out the borough’s heart
And took his business to California,
Greedy and mean,
Displacing locals living in the ravine?
My dad, a Dodgers fan since the 30s,
Watched his team go from Wills, Davis, and Fairly
To Bob Bailor and Jack Fimple–
It was almost that simple.
He swore off the team in 1985
When they brought up some gawky-looking flotsam pitcher named Tom Brennan
Who was just trying to survive.
He raised his leg like a flamingo
And fluttered junk toward the plate.
“That’s not a Dodger,” Dad said,
And he was right. The old team was dead.
There was Gibson’s homer in 1989,
A thrilling victory, a special time,
For a team that wasn’t very good,
But had magic and Orel.
Then Peter O’Malley sold the club to Fox,
Who treated the franchise like a TV show,
Jumping the shark with grumps like Gary Sheffield,
Raul Mondesi, Kevin Brown, Chan Ho Park,
Four managers in five years wandering in the dark
And winning no titles until Frank McCourt bought in.
Now, they’re just another team,
Trading their magic beans
For vets like Nomar, Andruw,
And the worst: Manny Being Manny.
What does it mean to be a Dodger
When a jaker and malcontent
Can wear the same colors as Jackie?
That’s not what his example meant.
Posted 8/27/08Â