By Stuart Shea
When they’re still playing ball
But your team has gone home,
A part of you just wants
The winter to come.
Birds vs. Beards
by Stephen Jones
We don’t need ballistic pairing.
Will birds be in beards, nesting?
Or will Boston trump Cardinal flapping?
Whatever . . . it’s a series worth watching.
Baseball Time
by Philip Pecorino
For those who can fathom the beauty in the game,
there is surely is nothing lame
to say that baseball time is close to divine.
It starts when you get there and ends when you leave, nothing more
.      beautiful to conceive.
Start when you get to the field
and stop when to darkness you must yield.
Get under way out back much sooner than later
to end when you get called in for dinner.
From the beginnings that rest in memories of sandlot plays on to
.      glorious major league majestic displays,
the rhythm and temper of the game,
though never quite the same,
feels quite right,
whether in day or night.
Start seasons when the season’s leaves spring out from branch and
.      vine then end when they’re falling as winter season comes calling.
It all seems so natural as if designed supernatural.
Boston Acoustics
by Michael X. Ferraro
Bumper to bumper on the way home,
October baseball on the AM waves.
The guys in the booth are nattering
and then one allows, “Hee-ere’s the pitch.”
In the pregnant pause, a log is split
on my radio, a violent snap
of sound, like the dude from Green Day
just pulverized his snare. Or maybe
one of those “Where The Wild Things” saw red
and razed a roof. Either way, that pure
noise story-tells better than Scully.
Detroit’s sigh is broadcast nation-wide.
We are no longer wedged in traffic,
because bat met ball met microphone
and Marconi trots with Napoli.
The Downside of Hall Debates
by R.J. Lesch
Rivera’s winding up his farewell tour.
The Rockies’ Helton takes his final bow.
Guerrero leaves the players’ ranks one fewer,
and Pettitte says the time to quit is now.
Who else will be upon the Hall of Fame’s
induction ballot only five years hence?
We’ll cheer them while they play their final games,
and then the tearing down part will commence.
Which candidates are worthy of a plaque?
To get your player through those hallowed doors,
You have to stab the others in the back,
As fewer votes for them mean more for yours.
“Your player’s glove was not so good,” I’ll say.
And you’ll reply my candidate struck out
too often in the clutch. And, by the way,
his value came from a syringe, no doubt.
It’s sad to drag good players through the dust,
but votes are scarce. So, Cooperstown AND bust!