Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
You’ve had all winter to think about it:
Those round words — play ball.
You even snugged them in the hollow of your glove.
All winter, they gave it — and you — shape.
Now the waiting’s done, the doors are open,
And cleats grate on locker room floors.
Spring training, and the game, unfolding,
You share space with expectation and hope.
The horror! Two ligaments torn
Once more, all of Wrigley’s forlorn
Of such mishaps one wearies–
But what’s this? In the Series
Kyle Schwarber is friggin’ reborn!
Hilary Barta is a funny book artist (SpongeBob and Simpsons comics), as well as the force behind the noir and horror film site LimerWrecks.
Before the Fall gets underway,
Let us doff our caps and say
Goodbye to those who’ll junk their cleats,
Leave the park and walk the streets.
Super-versatile Angel Chone
Will now be the utility man at home.
Grant Balfour, hothead Aussie,
Can only fume when his wife gets bossy.
Phil Humber’s vaunted perfect game
Was his sole stat worth noting (such a shame).
The Prince has trouble with his neck–
He’ll inspire no more fear on-deck.
Tex and A-Rod will leave the Yanks
And all their fans will mumble thanks,
While Raf Soriano has called an end
To tell war stories, a fine fireman.
But let’s not forget the other guys,
Young tyros once, with starry eyes,
Who gave their all but somehow missed
The general manager’s call-up list.
They’re just as key to the game as any
Adam LaRoche or Brad Penny.
Talent, drive and dreams they bid,
Just like us when we were kids.
As the regular season is waning
Cubs players it seems are complaining
Irrelevant chatter
About games that don’t matter
Being managed as if it’s spring training.
Shooting stars are meant to fall
Whether in view or hidden,
It’s always such a shock to us
When, seemingly unbidden,
One does,
Just because.