Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
The Sox Machine has broken down.
J-Roll is rolling out of town,
The latest on Latos isn’t good—
He’s available in trade for a cord of wood.
Nobody thinks it’s the manager’s fault
That the bullpen’s a victim of nightly assault
While the power hitters ain’t hittin’ or powerin’—
And it’s far too late to re-sign Moose Skowron.
The harpies harp on Harper
They say he’s immature
I’ll take him and his moods
Whether pure, poor, or manure.
Farewell, Torii,
Always a good story . . .
With your amazing catches,
Your religious dispatches,
Your homers and doubles,
Your OBP troubles.
You don’t like gay marriage,
But you don’t have to get one,
And I hope you enjoy the rest of your life,
With your kids and your wife.
I’d rather drink Harvey’s Bristol Creme
Than watch Matt Harvey shut down my team.
The knockdown pitch is a part of the game.
The occasional fracture the price of the fame.
The late, brutal slide is the way it’s been done!
And watching the pain?—Well, we might find it fun.