A pop-up to Wilson Valdez
To lead off the game, start the top.
A two-run homer in the bottom
Forgotten by the time they’d stop.

The online box preserves its shape:
Room for innings, just one through nine
(What did the real newspapers do?)
One clicks to move along the line.

One needs two clicks to see the start.
Or one to see the reviewed play.
Homer for Bruce, play stands as called–
But Ryan overshadowed Jay

Homering in the bottom half.
The Reds responded, out of kind
Loading up the bases, but
Baserunners proved harder to find

After Valdez’ eleventh-inning
Single. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, came
And went with zeroes. Hits at last.
But on the linescore, just the same.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. When
To take the risk? No guidebook says
When to bring in Wilson Valdez
Or to take out Danys Baez
Fingers crossed tight for Martinez
Grateful cheers for Raul Ibanez
In the morning, somehow it’s done
And Valdez the unlikely hero
Rises to plateau, one and zero–
While Fisher falls to oh and one.

Ember Nickel likes to play the tenor saxophone, chess, and with the English language. Her website is Lipogram! Scorecard!

Did the promising young righty
Think money was tight-y?
Is that why he tagged Macy’s
‘stead of runners on the base-ies?

CHICAGO CUBS
Oh, Michael Quade—
Lead us up Mt. Zambrano
But slowly, slowly.

CINCINNATI REDS
Aroldis Chapman
Fast as a spring tornado
Wilder than berries.

HOUSTON ASTROS
Blooms on orange tree:
Figueroa? Barmes? Hall?
’nother sour batch.

MILWAUKEE BREWERS
Are you ribbing me?
Zack out for all of April?
I hate basketball.

PITTSBURGH PIRATES
Youth must have its day.
Better that green kids err than
Jeromy Burnitz.

ST. LOUIS CARDINALS
Albert? No Albert?
Rumors expand and contract
About new contracts.

Zach Grienke’s arm is hinky.
Jake Peavy’s feeling skeevy.
Adam Wainwright’s wing ain’t right.
Rich Harden’s asked for pardon.
Brad Lidge is off a smidge.
That goes ditto for Johnny Cueto.

And an inflamed elbow is causing
Pain for Jason Isringhausen.

Thank God for March,
So these great apes
Have one less month
To fall out of shape.

The snowy hair
The doleful stare
The mangled speech
The subtle preach
The dubious start
The gentle heart
The hook that stings
Three Series rings
The postgame pipe
The misplaced hype
Shaggy dog stories
Humble glories
A light gone dark
We’ll miss you, Spark

Oh what a day
For Roy Halladay!
Just one pitch away
From perfect play!

He left the Reds
Shaking their heads,
Like walking dead,
longing for bed.

And Carlos Ruiz
From his knees,
If you please,
Tossed the last out 2-3.

Painting corners four
Like Benjamin Moore (TM),
Doc slammed the door
On the Redleg corps.

What might come next
Is anyone’s guess.
Doc seems untaxed–
Are THREE no-nos too much to ask?

Twas the night that we clinched, and all through the house
not a creature was stirring (’cept Hunter Pence, that louse).
All the kids and the grownups at GABP
were waiting to see what the inning would be.

When up to the plate strode the mighty Jay Bruce.
And right in that moment, my mind saw the news.
The ’Stros brought a lefty, but Jay Bruce just smirked,
Stepped in to the box, and he went straight to work.

He swung the bat hard, so fast and so quick
That I knew in a moment in the stands it would stick.
He raised both his arms and he ran with a smile,
And Joy rose in Cincy that had been gone for a while.

Marty was happy, and so was son Thom.
Even Jim Day and Pic were enjoying that bomb!
The fireworks, how bright! The crowd, O how merry!
For such a great season, an appropriate cherry.

So thanks Aaron and Bronson, Brandon and Scott.
Thanks Orlando and Joey, the whole stinking lot!
And I heard them exclaim as they rode out of sight:
“Merry Clinchmas to all, and to all a Reds’ night!”

CUBS
Whither the Starlin?
For now, he makes a nest out west
In loverly Des Moines.
.
CARDINALS
Blah de blah de blah.
Pujols is going to be dealt.
When hell is frozen.
.
ASTROS
Old, boring players,
Mediocre announcers,
Fans that prefer football.
.
BREWERS
A Wolf is Riske,
But worth two in the Bush. Bring
Hoffman a Coffey.
.
PIRATES
I walk in the park
So pretty, green, bright, and lush.
Ugh! The Bucs play here.
.
REDS
Ardolis Chapman.
Good for 200 wins or shoulder problems,
It’s up to Dusty.

.

Posted 3/23/2010

CUBS
Spring wish, autumn dreams
Green of youth and rust of age
Hope is…Kevin Gregg?

BREWERS
Prince Fielder’s a veg.
The racing sausages can
Rest easy all summer.

ASTROS
Bummer! Bits of sun
Are all that Minute Maid Park
Will see this season.

CARDINALS
Converted Skippy
Will be a sitting pigeon
For one hard slide.

REDS
Screw Dusty Baker!
The Reds have enough talent
To win despite him.

PITTSBURGH
Winter’s not the time
To start rebuilding a house
With no foundation.

Posted 3/23/09

Walt and Bobby sitting in a tree,
S-I-G-N-I-N-G !
First came Corey,
Then came Willy,
Now there’s no hope of catching Philly
(or anybody else in the wild card race …)

Posted 3/5/09