by Fred Lovato
Those days of my youth
when starters lasted seven
seem so far away
Slanguage by Siergey #11
by Jim Siergey
Tommy’s Guarantee
by Tommy Lasorda
I have never, ever,
since I managed,
ever
told a pitcher to throw at anybody,
nor will I ever.
And if I ever did,
I certainly wouldn’t
make him throw
at a
f–king .130 hitter like Lefebvre
or f–king Bevacqua,
who couldn’t hit water
if he fell
out of a f–king boat.
And I guaran-f–king-tee you this:
When I pitched
and I was going to pitch against a team
that had guys on it
like Bevacqua,
I sent a f–king limousine
to get the c–ksucker
to make sure
he was in the motherf–king lineup
because I kicked that c–ksucker’s ass
any day of the week.
He’s a f–king motherf–king big mouth,
I’ll tell you that.
Baseball Hail Mary
by R. Gerry Fabian
His arm is tired from last night.
He knows a tired arm helps his sinker.
Ninth inning, up one run.
5, 6, 7 in the order:
5 hitter two foul balls
swing and miss on outside sinker –
6 hitter takes fastball for strike one,
swings and misses at an outside fastball
takes splitter down and in for strike three –
7 hitter fouls off a center of the plate
fastball,
he breathes a sigh of relief –
takes sinker down and away for strike two.
His catcher calls for a waist pitch up high.
He realizes the catcher is unaware.
He shakes him off.
Again, the same high waist pitch.
Should he call time and explain.
He pounds his glove and shakes him off.
The umpire has been giving low and away
all night long.
He gets the sign.
Sinker low and away,
the batter swings and misses.
He has it,
an immaculate inning,
nine strikes – three outs.