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


Waterlooed

by the Village Elliott

For last night’s ninth inning loss, Cardinals 3, Giants 2

During Jints’ pitching change interlude,
Team’s reliever preemptively booed.
Home crowd’s seen it before,
When the Cards tied the score–
Team’s ninth inning’s again “Waterlooed”.

 



Backing Into the Title, or How the Clinch Stole Christmas

by Hilary Barta

The Cardinals lose, so Cubs win.
Should the party at Wrigley begin?
Or is making it rain
By spraying champagne
Committing a Cardinal sin?

 



See Cy Young

by Hilary Barta

Kyle Hendricks, no ace all a-glitter,
Ain’t trending on Facebook or Twitter,
So isn’t it strange
This wiz with the change
Contends for a late fall no-hitter?

 



Every Sixty Years

by the Village Elliott

For Madison Bumgarner, et al.

Each Giants fan felt giant fear,
Thought, “Though year’s even,” then “Out of here!”
Mad Baum showed Jints the way,
Hit “Game’s Call of the Day”.
Reckon likely be Call of the Year.

Seems each 60 years there’s such a game:
Give up Grand Slam, hit tater same frame.
First, Hubs’ Fred Klobedanz,
Back when Babe wore short pants;
Reds’ Hal Jeffcoat, Mad Bum each same fame.

 

On August 18 in the fourth inning, Madison Bumgarner gave up a grand slam. In the bottom of the inning, he hit a two-run tater. He is the third hurler in Major League history to hit a home run after giving up grand slam in previous half-inning:

1: Boston Braves’ Fred Klobedanz vs. New York Giants (homer by George Davis), 1st/2nd, on 9/12/1896
2: Cincinnati Reds’ Hal Jeffcoat vs. St. Louis Cardinals (homer by Stan Musial), 8th, on 5/26/1957
3: San Francisco Giants’ Madison Baumgarner vs New York Mets (homer by Justin Ruggiano), 4th, on 8/18/16



Hanging the Bunting at Wrigley

by Gene Fendt

“At 8-1, the Cubs are off to their best start since 1969”
–news story, April 15, 2016

They’re hanging the bunting at Wrigley
.    a hundred years after the Babe;
so many have waited so long for this day
.     it’s hard to believe what we see.
My childhood knows Santo, Kessinger, Beckert and Banks,
.     the trade of Lou Brock, the umpire’s mistake,

facing Giants and Pirates and Hammering Hank,
.     the line-up of Bench, Morgan, Rose and Perez,
the grace of Clemente before he was dead,
.     the stare-down of Gibson, Bob Veale and Koufax’s crank:
Lou Boudreau on radio made it appear
.     as Athena to Hector, when Achilles was near.

The world is unworthy of childhood faith,
.     the utter incorrigible truth of its love,
its weeping for heroes defeated by fate,
.     its Aprils and Augusts, stolen bases, gold gloves.

All that is over. It’s daytime, there’s ivy,
.     it’s got God’s own green grass,
the bunting is hanging, and so soon you’ll see
.     God himself in his garden, all home at last.

 

Gene Fendt has taught philosophy for 29 years at the University of Nebraska, but grew up in Wisconsin listening to WGN, “radio home of millions throughout mid America.” His poetry most recently has captured the Princemere Poetry Prize (2015) and won the Gemini Magazine national poetry competition.

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