Browse all poems and songs in the 'St. Louis Cardinals' Category


National League Central 2014 Spring Training Haiku

by Stuart Shea

BREWERS
Forecast for ’14?
Lots of Braun but little brain.
Enjoy fourth place, guys.

CARDINALS
Yadier Molina—
Buster Posey before the
new Buster Posey.

CUBS
Huh. “Wait til next year”
From a franchise managed by
Weekly profit/loss.

PIRATES
There’s one more Hurdle:
Convert iron not to steel
But to a trophy.

REDS
Time for a Price change—
It was getting Dusty there.
Maybe they’ll win now.

 



The World Series: From Worst-To-First in Boston

by Stephen Jones

Today’s Boston papers proclaim to millions
“We Are The World – We Are The Champions”
While outside sources observe distantly
“Beards Beat Birds In World Series Finale”.

What impressed me, despite Big Papi’s MVP,
Was Boston’s locked-in baseball mentality.  The
Beer and chicken wings, and Valentine, were over,
Replaced now by focused Red Sox team fervor.

Pundits say it is money which holds the day
(After all, many teams are built by green sway).
I wonder: Yes, many teams don’t lack for salary, but
Their locker rooms aren’t built by such currency.

 



The Sprawl Classic

by Michael X. Ferraro

The base-paths at Busch are no place to be
if you want your game to end normally.
Boston and St. Louis learned the hard way
how dreams turn to chalk dust, on the last play.

Game 3’s conclusion was one for the books,
as Craig was obstructed by Middlebrooks.
That put the Redbirds in the driver’s seat,
‘Til Kolten got (picked) off, on the Wong feet.

 

Michael X. Ferraro is a screenwriter in Hollywoodland and author of  the book Tazed and Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.

 



How Boston Broke Loose, in Clerihews (World Series Game #5)

by James Finn Garner

Stephen Drew
Couldn’t hit his shoe
On the floor,
Then he walks in four.

Adam Wainwright
Could’ve pitched all night,
But maybe one less toss
To David Ross.

John Lester
Was no pitch molestor.
He could’ve saved himself the walk
Up to the chalk.

But Jacoby Ellsbury
Didn’t look like he had a worry
In the world,
Then a flare unfurled.

 



The World Series (After Game 4)

by Stephen Jones

Maybe it’s too soon to comment . . .

But am I seeing baseball – while entertainment –
Not being played at the highest level meant?

What it might be, I am thinking,
Seems more like two boxers, each hoping
For the other’s over-a-rule stumbling
Or for a pick-off miscalculating.

Each mistake, it seems, wins a round.
The last man standing will hold the ground
In this series of fluke and luck.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.