Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
A pitcher’s foot digging in
on the mound a cloud of dust
swirling ’round his ankle
A batter’s foot digging in
in the box a cloud of dust
swirling ’round his ankle
The pitcher leaning forward
shaking off then agreeing
The batter leaning over
spitting now staring for
A coiled windup then release
a white blur’d delivery . . .
And then the sudden stagger
back . . . chin music
(Axiom: Don’t crowd the plate)
by Bob Carlton
.
Ball, white
in blue sky
or skipping
through grass
too green
not to dream.
.
Posted 8/17/10
By Stuart Shea
A sphere spins towards the head.
A comebacker cracks a pitcher’s skull.
The outfield wall claims another body.
A collision takes out two.
A knee snaps.
A labrum tears.
A dream dies.
It’s a violent game.
Sometimes, it’s a shame.
Posted 8/8/10
Each Major League skipper is Atlas,
the weight of the world on his back.
While once did he play
with fun teammates each day,
he now must be stern, never lax.
A thousand decisions each game day
await the wise calls of this man,
so time with the guys
sharing jokes and high fives
in the clubhouse would just never stand.
Upon him are so many eyes –
players’, owners’ and writers’ and fans’ –
the stress makes him sour
and his look becomes dour
as he surveys the diamond and plans.
He likes most his time in the shower.
It’s there he escapes for a while
the press of the press
the GM who knows best
and his wife who likes life in high style.
So why does he deal with this mess?
There’s just something about a great quest!
The end of the year
might bring rings, happy tears
and some pride at how well he has guessed.
Posted 7/30/2010