Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
First Eloy ripped his armpit
Chasing a pointless tater
Then Engel strained his hammy
Won’t see him til later
Now Robert’s torn what sounds like
His entire frickin’ torso
In May, we’re warned, “It’s a long season”
But this year, even more so.
1BÂ Â Bunny Brief
2BÂ Â Rabbit Maranville
SSÂ Â Bunny Fabrique
3BÂ Â Rabbit Nill
LFÂ Â Bunny Roser
CFÂ Â Rabbit Robinson
RFÂ Â Shawn Hare
CÂ Â Â Pete Lapan
LHPÂ Â Bunny Hearn
RHPÂ Â Dan Haren, Jharel Cottontail, David Coney, Bugs Bennett
MGRÂ Â Hoppus Wagner
This Cubs team elicits some frights
Swinging like scrubs, punchless some nights
Then, as if dosed,
Brute strength is exposed
Who knows which will show up tonight?
To honor the birth and death of the Bard of Avon on April 23:
His spirit having shed this mortal clay,
Consider Shakespeare doing play-by-play.
With artful language, could he break the code,
Or just “stand like a house by th’ side of th’ road”?
To hear, egads, of someone “going yard”
Might sow farming tableaux within the Bard.
A “dying quail” or “Texas Leaguer”, s’truth,
are chestnuts we might hear the playwright uthe.
The redhead like old Barber might repeat
A phrase like “sitting in the catbird’s seat.”
Shout “Holy cow!” he’d not, nor tipsy sing,
Though quaffing Falstaff would remove the sting.
Arrives the pitch both high, tight and inside,
Quoth he: “With patience do such things betide.”
Having Shakespeare on the broadcast team!
Faith, t’would be the sweetest wordsmith’s dream!
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day”
Rings brighter than, “These two teams came to play.”
To catch, though, baseball’s phantom ballyhoo,
He’d trail stout Ernie: “Let us playeth two!”
Rodón was hot from the get-go
Stalked the elusive perfecto
‘Til some hobbit-like feet
Made hearts skip a beat–
Still, a no-no for a guy who’d been let go.