Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
I want to see if the poet
is going to have me speak in dialect
as the sportswriters of my day did;
I spoke English better than they
spoke another language, and sometimes
even better than they spoke English
The great thing about baseball
is that your ability speaks for itself,
it’s not dependent on how someone else
chooses to portray you
And it also allowed me to do things
for other people, one of our reasons for being
Cashie played us all,
Jivin’ us that we were voodoo.
With our Wonder from Mars
He batted from each side,
Hit it far and wide.
Became the special man,
And we were Jasson’s fans.
Cashie loved to bray,
Tellin’ us that we’d be champs soon,
That the kids were all stars,
Or even from Mars.
He had a secret plan,
And someday he’d tell us, man.
So where was the Martian?
While that jerk tried to break our balls?
Just the beer lights to guide us.
So he brought him to the show,
And blew out his elbow!
Oh, yeah.
Cashie played for time,
Jivin’ us the Yanks were voodoo.
That the kids were for real
And he was the deal.
God, but he was an ass!
He took it all too far,
And thought that he was the star.
Making love with his ego,
Cashie sucked up into his mind (ah!).
Like a leper messiah,
When his deals had killed the team
We had to give up the dream.
Oh, yeah.
Cashie played us all . . .
This parody was originally posted on the indispensible Yankee website, It is High, It is Far, It is . . .caught.
facing out
I set the target
while everyone else
is looking in
I am the field commander
of signals and signs
my mitt hand swollen
from 100 mile per hour fastballs
my knees creaking
from 10,000 squats per season
I am Yogi, Pudge, Campy
I am the wall, the backstop, the glue
my head in a cage
controlling the game
controlling the flow
every situation
every moment in time
the pitcher is a wild horse
I soothe him
squat down in the dirt
I am the target
I know the umpires
I can fool them
sometimes with my mind
my right arm is a rifle
my eyes laser beams
I know when the runner is going
I will gun him down
I sweet talk the hitters
get inside their heads
I can fool them too
most times
they are putty in my hands
I own the plate
it is mine
I have studied every nuance
of this game
since I was nine years old
since the very first time I donned
the tools of ignorance