By Hilary Barta
Nothing quicker a rally will slay,
Than the pitcher’s old pal, double-play.
First the pickup and flip,
Then the pivot, and zip!
It’s the nick-of-time bail-out ballet.
by Pat McCaughey
Tate Mee Ott Tutor Ball Gomes.
Tate Mee Ott Tutor Crouse.
Brye Meacham Peterson Crocker Hack.
Hoy Dent Karnuth Hoy Evers Gibbs Brack.
Foor Fritz Root, Root, Root, Forster Holm Teahen.
Imlay Dent Wynn Acker Sain.
Foor Fritz Jahn, Drew, Troy Sykes Yde Houk
Acker Olt Ball Gomes.
By Stu Shea
Sure, I wish they didn’t take drugs
To reach the heights they do.
Yes, I wish that we could go back
And not know the stuff we do.
Of course, it’s not the game we played
Upon the fields of youth…
But no one would pay to watch us play,
And that’s the honest truth.
by Tony Puma
Playing Softball in Central Park
with chorus dancers traipsing
around bases and pirouetting
to snag fly-balls and I in
tight gold and green MGM
Lions uniform, as-twinky-as
could be, enjoying the sights,
sounds, and après drinks
and egos and all that comes
with thespians and Broadway
“types” in Baseball costumes.
Strawberry Fields memoir.
Welcome Tony Puma to his first at-bat with Bardball. You can read more of his poetry at his website.