King Felix

Felix is not a cat nor catcher.

He is a very large pitcher.

Batters do not like to face his deliveries.

He will grow very much richer.

The Ballad of Jack Cust

I.

Jack Cust

Has become a must!

Beating pitchers into dust.

Jack Cust

Has earned the trust

Of Oakland fans with home-run lust.

Jack Cust

Is free of rust

Despite demotions so unjust.

II.

Billy Beane sussed that Jack Cust

Wouldn’t go bust.

But even he must be nonplussed

By the heroic thrust

Of Jack Cust.

Here’s to the Men of Milwauk

by Stu Shea

Here’s to the men of Milwauk,

Who are making the baseball world talk.

There’s a Hardy man at short and a Gross in reserve,

While the pitching staff’s Sheets are quite billowy.

Bill Hall runs ’em down while Craig will give Counsell

And Prince Fielder’s body is pillowy.

Yes, the Brew Crew is back in Milwauk,

Giving all its opponents a shock.

The rotation has been solid despite their less-known names,

And Francisco Cordero slams doors.

Though the roof of their park still sports a few holes,

The beer is the only thing that pours.

Yes, the Brew Crew is ready to rock,

Now that Bud Selig’s name’s off the block.

For Rod Beck

When we heard of the death of The Shooter

We all grabbed a beer and a smoke…

And we toasted the long-ago memories

And the quick way he had with a joke.

He’s dead, just 38.

It makes no sense

To those of us here on the outside.

Why him? He seemed normal.

Never formal,

So unaffected by the fame

Of the great game,

But sometimes worlds don’t collide.

For some, there’s no life after baseball.

For some, there’s no way to adjust.

So he left his wife and two children

In a cloud of motorhome dust.

He’s dead, just 38.

He died alone

In Phoenix, for God’s sake.

It’s got to be a mistake.

Sure, he liked a beer and his cigarettes.

That was part of his character.

But beneath the veneer

Of that which is legal,

it all was much worse.

The curses

Of hard drugs and failure

Of arm injuries and rehab

Are tough on athletes

With nothing else to do.

You can’t fish all day.

You can’t drink beer all day.

But when you’re Rod Beck,

And the dream is gone,

What do you do with your time

But look for the next high

And kiss each day goodbye?

Dialogue: Jacque Jones and a Cubs Fan

by Stu Shea

“Today I make a promise from my soul

That I will try my best in my new role.

I will not swing at sliders aimed at my back foot,

Nor run the bases like I’m wearing gumboots.

Or make a six-hop throw toward the plate

That never gets the runner ’cause it’s late.

I hope that I can keep this oath.”

 

 

“You and me both.”

 

Posted 6/21/07