by Tom Shea
O, his blood is clean as a geranium!
Here’s how Barry Bonds fills every stadium:
Weight work in the off-season
‘S the sole, simple reason
For his huge, massive, 90-pound cranium.
The Voice of God
by James Finn Garner
As I sat in Section 660
Above the field where Gehrig trod,
I cursed the Yankees’ inept play
And muttered grudging praise to A-Rod.
Then a booming voice erupted,
Rattling beams and shaking sod.
Had sanity up and left me?
Or did I just hear the voice of God?
All eyes sought out the owner’s box
Where George S. kept his shrimp-stuffed bod.
What revelation would be uttered that
Had this crowd’s undies in a wad?
There stood Rocket Roger to declaim
(Feel free whenever to applaud)
That he’d weighed golf versus sleeping late,
And deigned to give the Yanks the nod.
“Hooray!” bellowed the drunken crowd,
Mouths agape like fresh-caught cod.
Yet I sat there with no response,
Unmoved, unsure, ungaped, unawed.
The feeling grew within me
With more than one fantod,
That this mercenary egomaniac
Wouldn’t rescue this year’s squad.
He’d win a game or three and show
His skills were not a fraud,
Then retire again, then change his mind,
A greedy, charmless, pumped-up clod.
Though many things, George S. is not
A cowardly tightwad,
But bills come due. Next year our costs
Will feel quite like a doctor’s prod.
On Being A.J. Pierzynski
by James Finn Garner
Oh, it isn’t easy
Being A.J. Pierzynski.
Not one to appease, he
Is always called sleazy.
He’s never mistaken
For Francis Assisi.
He’d start a rhubarb
In a game of Parcheesi.
Ozzie will say that
He’ll see him in Hades–he
Then says they’re twins,
Near Siamese-y.
Other team’s say his
Play’s pretty cheesy.
If bad vibes were pollen,
The whole league would be sneezy.
But to find a smart catcher
Ain’t easy-peasy.
I’d rather hunt crocs on
The River
Like being the man
On the flying trapeze-y,
It ain’t never easy
Being A.J. Pierzynski.
Barry Bonds #13
by James Finn Garner
Now, everyone knows it’s legit
When Barry Bonds strokes out a hit.
It ain’t no shot in the rear
With the cream or the clear.
It’ s…genes and….hard work and…like, that shit.
Barry Bonds #11
by Jim Powers
Though Bonds swings a bat with great speed,
He calls juice accusations hackneyed.
“What fun is to hit?
I don’t give a shit–
I like sliding on slick shoulders acne’d.”