Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
by Stuart Shea
PHILLIES
Some defending champs
Next spring find their magic dust
Doesn’t work so well.
METS
Many suns have set
Since Pedro Martinez could
Throw over 90.
MARLINS
Buy season tickets!
We’ll throw in a free car wash
By Marlins players.
BRAVES
No Smoltz, No Maddux
Only Glavine left to fly
Their once-proud banner.
NATIONALS
Jim Bowden’s mission:
To leave behind a steaming pile
On Anacostia’s banks.
Posted 3/18/09
by James Finn Garner
In honor of the 100th anniversary of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and the 85th and final year of Yankee Stadium.
Casey Kelly had quite the job,
Quite the envy of every slob.
This businessman was a slip’ry eel,
Cutting deals, greasing wheels.
He knew f*ck-all of the national game,
But of this he was not ashamed.
When he saw poor saps lined up at the park
Trying to buy tickets, he’d bark,
“Whore me out at the skybox!
My firm takes care of the tab.
Clients just flew in from Washington.
We need to get plastered to get the deal done.
Oh, we’ll write this off on our taxes,
Champagne, sirloin and fresh lox.
We might
EVEN
WATCH
SOME
Of the game
From our sweet skybox!”
Posted 10/23/08
By Stuart Shea
The players fight at second base,
And don’t the fans just love it!
Some guy has blue paint on his face,
And don’t the fans just love it!
We’ll all yell loud and drink some beer,
We’re all so sure this IS the year,
We’ll scream ’til we forget our fear.
I don’t recall Mom’s maiden name…
And don’t the fans just love it!
I”ll look it up after the game,
And don’t the fans just love it!
Thank God the kids are back in school!
I’ll watch the game beside the pool.
My chin is covered with my drool.
I’ll buy my playoff tickets now,
And don’t the fans just love it!
I’ll pay the mortgage–don’t know how–
And don’t the fans just love it!
The owners and the players earn
More money than Britney can burn…
I’ll cry when I see my tax return,
And don’t the fans just love it!
Posted 10/22/08
By Stuart Shea
Real Brewers don’t go out of business so fast.
Real White Sox don’t unravel in hours.
And actual Angels don’t fall from the stars
And land on their butts.
And real Cubs don’t slink out with their tails between their legs
Like a pack of whipped mutts.
Posted 10/16/08
Some say we face the End Times,
With ice caps disappearing,
Financial pains and hurricanes,
And war with Russia nearing.
But th’ hills of Armageddon
Will look like fields of clover
If the Pale Hose and Cubs oppose
Each other in October.
We’ll see blue-faced yuppies pounce
On shirtless mokes with mullets,
The Bridgeport night with bombs alight,
and Bernie’s strafed with bullets.
The hordes of Satan’s army
And counterparts from Heaven
Will find that they’ve not much to save
If the Series goes to seven.
Posted 10/1/08