5 weeks & 3 dismissed jurors later

(jurors having fallen asleep
during counsel’s endless
seemingly pointless examination
& then by law let go)

this trial has exceeded boredom
is now treading in dysfunctional limbo
& has left a bitter taste:

day-by-day less truth is being
oberved/served & one could wish
somebody would call off the whole
thing on account “of legal rain”

Permissible or not
There seems to be a drought
Of honesty afoot

Pitching maybe-perjury
Clemens seems for once
To be outta his league

His domineering stance
On the mound not found
Now drugs/performance

An arguance
More finger pointing it seems
As ugly truths are exhumed

CHICAGO CUBS
Behold the savior!
He slouches toward Wrigleyville
And shops at J. Crew.

CINCINNATI REDS
Scott’s Rolen along
At least as much as one “rolls”
On two rusty wheels.

HOUSTON ASTROS
In a great big barn
The inhabitants will smell…
25 heifers

MILWAUKEE BREWERS
The abdication
Means the Milwaukee lineup
Will welcome the Mat.

PITTSBURGH PIRATES
Pretty park, green grass,
Lovely statue, tasty beer,
Clint Barmes at short

ST. LOUIS CARDINALS
Elders leave the grounds,
Leaving the young ones to play
The eternal game.

The Cardinals are blanking the Astros again,
And they’ll make the playoffs if the Braves can’t win.
I wish I was there for this wild-card craze,
But I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Hey! Tampa came back from a 7-0 hole,
Dan Johnson just tied it–right off the foul pole!
I’d love to be seeing the Yankees and Rays,
But I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Did Baltimore really just walk off the Sox?
And Papelbon pull one more of his rocks?
So Tampa and St. Lou are in. I’m amazed
That I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

It’s cold in this pressbox at Safeco Field,
And watching a meaningless game is the yield.
The action is elsewhere, and it’s one of those days.
I’m stuck in Seattle covering the A’s.

Roger Clemens says “I’ll walk”
to clustered eager media
leaving court prosecution balked
warned by a bench previous

Know the rules
don’t fudge the facts
just prove the act

(& steroids run to trivia
rupturing historia)

Now $10 Million of trial prep
taxpayer dollars up in smoke
Clemens amid hollers walks
backdoor to Cooperstown

Time to make amends
(I wish would’ve been said)
By Roger Clemens
(But I cannot judge)

There’s tangled arrogance
Supposed abuse & media rush
Posturing on the mound a stance
In court too to hush

By filed papers
By disclaimers
That a person is naive
Yet aware & conflictive

I thought this bare-knuckle
Bare-faced debacle
Would’ve been erased
By an all-forgiving fan base

But this coming legal sieve
Only wishes/draws attention
To media-flushed speculation
A barrel of brine to leave

Paul
Hit a ball
Out for his fifth straight day. No Sox
Bat has got six straight days of park-vacating knocks.

Mitch
Also hit a ball out, which
Put things such that his squad won.
No outs–not a pitch (bar 10 and a half prior innings’ worth)–prior to winning run.

Zack
Didn’t lack
For Ks,
Notching 10 against Rays.

Ryan Howard
Is not a coward.
His hit wound up a big inning
So his squad wound up winning.

Brian
Had to start pitching, as Placido and Ryan
Both got hit by a pitch
On back-to-back plays, that inning. At that point, you must switch.

Carl Pavano
Had to go mano-a-mano
With his opposing moundsman. Carl didn’t notch a hit
But as his squad had 8 in as many at-bats, was cool with it.

Justin Smoak
Was part of a ninth-inning croak.
His squad was up by four
But couldn’t shut Washington’s door.

Ember Nickel blogs at Lipogram! Scorecard!

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.

Been an Astro for so long,
Got the gong,
Here’s your song:

Bye, bye, Berkman.

Master of the hard line drive,
You’re 35?
What’s that jive?

Bye, bye, Berkman.

When Ed Wade shipped your contract to the Yankees last July,
You didn’t know it wasn’t “come on back,” but just “goodbye.”

The hourglass is losing sand.
Will you land
In Japan?

Bye, bye, Berkman.

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!”