Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
So many different subscription services,
Left, right and center,
As I try to follow my team this year.
Baseball’s become more complicated,
And more expensive, too,
Even for someone relaxing at home.
There’s a big problem in all of this.
How is it, now, that America’s pastime—
Its looked-forward-to leisure of summer—
Has evolved like an apocalyptic survivor,
Transformed into MLB’s frenetic cash cow?
Who was it,
What savvy pundit
Or, more likely,
What marketing employee
Decided to layer
All the All-Star players
In red and blue clown
Suits, or as actors in “Tron”?
The Kenes/Judge first-inning showcase
Was anticipated,
And both the fans and commentators
Were elated
When — bells ringing — it occurred.
But it was a bit of a letdown:
No fireworks — an HR or strikeout —
When the Judge grounded out to third …
And then it was all over too soon.
Way to go, Jahmai Jones:
After two years of patience
In the Yankees organization,
You hit your first home run.
On the long, long IR line, of mostly
Pitchers early in the season,
You’re waiting to get into
MLB’s popular fragility club,
The club no one wants to join…
It’s your turn to flash the bouncer;
You show him your card with a picture —
It’s your elbow — and he looks,
Then declares: “What, another pitcher —
And a young one at that?” Then
He opines: “What’s with all you guys?”
You protest: “Hey, it’s not my fault.
Everyone’s always told me: Pitch harder,
Pitch faster — with more spin and torque!
I can’t help it if I’m young.” Words drift off.
The bouncer nods like a ballpark sage
Who’s seen it all, and thinks: “Don’t they
Know the human body has its limits,
Even when you’re young?”
But then he shrugs and lets you in.