by James Finn Garner
Finally killed the Curse of the Bambino
As the Carmines won
The first clincher at home since World War I.
Led the pitchers pack. He
Revelled in his power,
With Uehara, Workman and Tazawa.
Stephen Drew and Mike Napoli
Came through in Game 6
After playing somewhat crappily.
And Big Papi
Was voted World Series MVP.
Let the cheers ring out near Boston Harbor!
And haul your butts to a good barber!
by Stephen Jones
Today’s Boston papers proclaim to millions
“We Are The World – We Are The Champions”
While outside sources observe distantly
“Beards Beat Birds In World Series Finale”.
What impressed me, despite Big Papi’s MVP,
Was Boston’s locked-in baseball mentality. The
Beer and chicken wings, and Valentine, were over,
Replaced now by focused Red Sox team fervor.
Pundits say it is money which holds the day
(After all, many teams are built by green sway).
I wonder: Yes, many teams don’t lack for salary, but
Their locker rooms aren’t built by such currency.
by Philip Pecorino
The base: a place of welcome respite along the glorious route of transit when home is behind you til home once again. With each venture off base there is the aim, goal and plan: the next bag to reach and then beyond until back to where it all began.
Leave and stop off where there is time to rest til you score the object of the quest. Each beckons to you, made of whatever materials offered in the venue.
Sandlots see torn cardboard pieces serving as the diamond’s pointy places. At other times and spaces, bags or pillows will do.
On dirt field scratched boxes in the soil will serve as base and works of practical art.
Living room? Rocking chair for first, then sofa for second, roam on to third at the love seat til returning to the old shirt where the trip did start.
On the city street, front bumper of the Ford serves first, then on to the manhole cover in the street, a place for defender and runner to meet. Fire pump as third will do great, til returning to the sewer that served as the plate.
There and back and midst trip adventures to be sure: leads to take and tag ups to make. A good jump and then mad dash and slide are made with pick offs to evade. On such a path of an uncertain journey, on base is a nice place to be.
by Michael X. Ferraro
The base-paths at Busch are no place to be
if you want your game to end normally.
Boston and St. Louis learned the hard way
how dreams turn to chalk dust, on the last play.
Game 3’s conclusion was one for the books,
as Craig was obstructed by Middlebrooks.
That put the Redbirds in the driver’s seat,
‘Til Kolten got (picked) off, on the Wong feet.
Michael X. Ferraro is a screenwriter in Hollywoodland and author of the book Tazed and Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.
by Stephen Jones
Maybe it’s too soon to comment . . .
But am I seeing baseball – while entertainment –
Not being played at the highest level meant?
What it might be, I am thinking,
Seems more like two boxers, each hoping
For the other’s over-a-rule stumbling
Or for a pick-off miscalculating.
Each mistake, it seems, wins a round.
The last man standing will hold the ground
In this series of fluke and luck.