Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
I REMEMBER the Chillicothe ball players grappling the Rock Island ball players in a sixteen-inning game ended by darkness.
And the shoulders of the Chillicothe players were a red smoke against the sundown and the shoulders of the Rock Island players were a yellow smoke against the sundown.
And the umpire’s voice was hoarse calling balls and strikes and outs and the umpire’s throat fought in the dust for a song.
Yankee Stadium – a heat wave is shimmering.
It’s July and baseball. The air is oppressive –
thick, almost strangled – on the field and off.
But the fans are loyal. They are as thick as
cotton candy in the sun-bleached stands.
It’s Sunday, Game 3 against the O’s.
Will the surging Yankees sweep?
(Of late, before the break, they’re playing
winning baseball with every-inning effort.)
The game seesawed, the play well-matched.
The 9th inning arrived like clockwork
and expectations rippled through the seats.
The stadium air felt lighter, less stagnant,
as if by an off-shore breeze freshened.
Mariano Rivera had taken the mound.
But like a great wave fan expectation crested
far too soon. It broke, crumbled. “The Sandman”
had blown a second save this year. He watched,
mouth open, as a homer sailed over center field.
The air which had been held suspended fell.
It collapsed in the stadium in disbelief.
From Lewis’ album, Heartline, which can be purchased here.
I could do that
Tap my glove
Gallop hat’s off
Horizon bound
Basket catch twirl homeward
I could do that
I all but said to the strangers
In the park
All shiny youth
On my sunset stroll
I could do that
If you only knew
In my dreams
Of Technicolor yesterday
Long gone
Rounding third
Paul Kocak is the author of Baseball’s Starry Night: Reliving Major League Baseball’s 2011 Wild Card Night of Shock and Awe, which Doris Kearns Goodwin called “a magical book about a magical night.” He followed this with World Serious: One San Francisco Giants Fan’s 2012 Pilgrimage.