End of Season at the MLB Tavern

by Stephen Jones

I was waiting at the bar for a playoff date
And looked at my watch. It’s getting late.
Then I heard the emphatic bartender,
With his fist pump, mask, and chest protector,
Announce to the lingering, glassy patrons:
“It’s last call. Closing time,” he intones
As he wipes the bar, satisfied with himself,
And begins putting teams on the postseason shelf —
Brands like Atlanta, Los Angeles, Baltimore, Tampa
(and just maybe Seattle, Chicago, or Philadelphia) —
And as he does, he continues to drone:
“It’s hotel-motel time if you can’t go home,
But right now, you can’t stay here —
And hey, better luck when we open next year.”

Pictured is Baseball Bill Holdforth, bartender and rabid DC baseball fan. For the story of how he worked to keep owner Bob Short out of the US Senate, check out this story from washingtonbaseballhistory.com.

Even Sadder

by Mikhail Horowitz

These are the saddest of possible words:
Steinfeldt to Evers to Chance.
Trio of bear cubs fleeter than birds,
Steinfeldt to Evers to Chance.

One of them nearly completely forgotten,
Simply because of a name that was not in
Accordance with metrical elegance — rotten!
Steinfeldt to Evers to Chance.

Mikhail Horowitz is an American poet, performance poet, parodist, satirist, social commentator, author and editor. He lives in the Hudson River valley.

 

Topple Heavy

by Hilary Barta

Dave Kingman would give it his all
Each powerful swing at the ball
But, missing, he’d spin
And, to his chagrin
Would teeter off balance and fall.

Illustration by Jim Siergey

Roberto Clemente

by Michael Ceraolo

I want to see if the poet
is going to have me speak in dialect
as the sportswriters of my day did;
I spoke English better than they
spoke another language, and sometimes
even better than they spoke English
The great thing about baseball
is that your ability speaks for itself,
it’s not dependent on how someone else
chooses to portray you
And it also allowed me to do things
for other people, one of our reasons for being

The No. 21 is on the pitching mound in honor of Roberto Clemente Day before a baseball game between the Miami Marlins and the Philadelphia Phillies, Thursday, Sept. 15, 2022, in Miami. (AP Photo/Lynne Sladky)

An Ode To Harry

by Rick Kaempfer

The poem by Franklin P. Adams definitely enhanced
The Hall of Fame chances of Tinker, Evers & Chance,
But the other name in that infield has been lost to time
Just because Harry Steinfeldt’s name didn’t rhyme.

He hit for more power, he drove in more runs,
He made fewer errors, and when the game was to be won,
They leaned on Harry Steinfeldt, the World Series MVP,
Though his name was a mouthful, depriving immortality.

Reprinted from Rick’s book, EveryCubEver (2nd edition, Eckhartz Press).