Browse all poems and songs in the 'Stu Shea' Category


Requiem for a Bat

By Stuart Shea

The series is over,
And I can’t stand the stench.
The Royals’ best option
Was nailed to the bench.

Sure, MadBum was great,
The best in a clench–
But Yost left his best pinch-hitter
Sitting on the bench.

Salvador Perez broke his knee,
Or at least gave it a wrench,
But Yost wouldn’t replace him
With someone from his bench.

Now Josh Willingham’s retiring,
Unlike Dame Judy Dench.
He ended his career
With his ass on the bench.

 



It All Comes Down To

By Stuart Shea

A Baseball Fan’s Heaven–
World Series Game Seven.
So Let’s Turn it Up to Eleven!



Wacha-Mole

By Stuart Shea

Matheny hoped for damage control
As each reliever dug a hole.
Choate was awful, Maness ehh,
Rosenthal wild, Martinez bleh.

Who is left to call on, then?
Wacha’s down there, in the pen…
He hasn’t pitched for several weeks,
But nothing’s left that doesn’t leak.

See one problem, cause another–
That’s how bullpens work, my brother.
How to fix this bullpen bleed?
Get a bigger lead.

 



C.J. and the Angels Go Home

By Stuart Shea

Poor C.J. Wilson.
It’s now a matter of “What if…”
After his bad outing,
It’s the Angels’ OFF-season of the whiff.

 



Goodbye Tigers

By Stuart Shea

Could be the end of an era
For the boys in the Old English D,
Max, V-Mart, and Torii may go,
But they’re stuck with Ausmus
And a bad bench and bullpen
Unfortunately.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.