Browse all poems and songs in the 'The Game Itself' Category

Rabbit Ears

by Stuart Shea

“Rabbit Ears,” the fans all say . . .
“Rabbit Ears,” stick to the play!

Don’t chase after players; don’t be dumb,
Don’t look for a reason to use your thumb

Don’t be so sensitive to criticism,
Even if your work is seen through a prism

That blows up each and every mistake
That a home plate umpire seems to make.

Otherwise, plate umpires soon may be
As useful as rabbit ears on a TV.


The Voice of God

by James Finn Garner

RIP Paul Carey (1928-2016), long-time Tigers radio announcer.

The roar of a Rouge Plant furnace
Birthing a Thunderbird

The muscle roll of Gitchee Gumee
Festooned in spray

The ancient trees deep-rooted
Strummed like a lyre

The tectonic rumble of two peninsulas
Alive in summer


Cubs Home Opener 2016, or “Will Finnegan Win Again?”

By Hilary Barta

Through six it was glum and a grind
Cub hits had become hard to find
Then some runs driven in
And the fun did begin
From the pits to a come-from-behind!


Opening Day Tradition

by the Village Elliott

For the “Lords of Baseball”

Big league tradition, “Opening Day.”
Cincinnati, where first game they’d play.
Reds: Godfather of those
Teams comprised of all pros
Signed to play for a full season’s pay.

Now there is no more “Opening Day.”
Openings staggered o’er three day’s play.
New big league ambition
To start new tradition:
Big TV payoff pays season’s way.


Sometimes You Wonder

by Millie Bovich

Sometimes you wonder who’s in charge
Who makes the schedule for the sport,
Who leaves the southern ballparks dark
And schedules op’ners for “up nort”.

In early April flakes could fly–
Come to think, they often do.
What makes them think that teams could play
And still stay warm in frozen dew?

The infield’s cold, the outfield too.
The pitcher’s arm is wrapped as well.
The catcher mutters thru his cage
Baseball in April’s “cold as hell”.

The dugout heatlamps do their job,
The team enjoys its moments there,
But when the ump calls outs are three
They rise and rush to arctic air.

And how about devoted fans?
They sit and cheer in bundled clothes
And stamp their feet to make blood flow
And cup their hands to warm their nose!

The vendors’ ice cream doesn’t sell,
Not much desire for frothy beer.
Fans huddle close on tushes cold
And pull their hoodies ’round each ear.

Let’s solve the problem now for sure:
Play April ball down south or west.
I must complain and make it known
That my solution is the best.

The baseball season’s not too long.
The country just can’t wait for play.
Above the Mason Dixon line
Home openers start in balmy May.

The schedule maker is the guy
About whose skill there is some doubt.
Just call him on the carpet and
Just raise your thumb and yell “yer out!”


Millie Bovich, one of our favorite contributors, has been a Tigers fan since the days of Mickey Cochrane and Charlie Gehringer. 


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Copyright 2007 Bardball.