Jamie Moyer, long of tooth,
Nabs a win at 49.
Never pitched to ol’ Babe Ruth
But babysat him one time.

Michael X. Ferraro is a TV writer/producer and author of Numbelievable: The Dramatic Stories Behind the Most Memorable Numbers in Sports History and Tased & Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.

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.

Late autumn brings damp and rain;
The baseball season is over again.
The Redbirds were soaring;
Their fans were roaring.
And Texas went home empty-handed.

The holidays and new year’s come,
Bringing dreams of series rings to everyone.
The hot stoves start burning,
With free agent yearning,
And revulse at the salaries commanded.

Spring brings tulips and green grass.
Training and opening day are here at last.
Northern fans bundle for the game,
Southern weather is a lot more tame.
And all hope to catch a foul single-handed.

The late Samuel Henry Donham (a college and semi-pro first baseman whose career ended in injury, and later a junior high baseball coach) instilled a love of baseball in his family, including his daughter-in-law Becky. She is a longtime Cubs fan whose faith is wavering.

Roy White, you did all right.
Jim Ray Hart, you played your part.
Willie Mays, those were the days!
Matty Alou, is it really true?

Duke Sims, you climbed on limbs.
Sparky Lyle, you made us smile.
Horace Clarke, you jumped the shark.
Matty Alou, we must bid adieu?

Harvey Kuenn, you made the scene.
Juan Marichal, you gave ‘em hell.
Steve Blass, let’s raise a glass!
Matty Alou, we’ll remember you.

Hart Seely’s new book, The Juju Rules: Or How to Win Ballgames From Your Couch, will be published by Houghton Mifflin in time for Opening Day 2012.  You can pre-order it from Amazon at this link.

This World Series sure done went screwy
with champs being wild card St. Looey
.     Midwest thinks it’s grand
.     but Cubs fans sneer and
collectively catcall, “Ah, Phooey!”

McCarver was a Cardinal
We’re taught to believe
He caught Bob Gibson
For his thumb he still grieves

Yet as an announcer
No praise for the Cards, just bashes
By omission or commission
The man’s head’s up his asses.

Alan is a sociology professor at Central Michigan University.

Was that Tony La Russa after all?
The glasses look right. I don’t know the eyes.
Was that a slider? Changeup? Or curveball?
Perhaps this would be a good place for wise

Commentators to…maybe…commentate.
They keep silent, cutaway to the same
Fan–wedding ring, hair dyed, breath quick to bate–
That they have been showing throughout the game.

Give me the details that I could not hear;
The red glove, the necklace striped blue and white.
We all are fans and we can all guess fear,
We know what is at stake on such a night.

And beyond night, I’ll try myself to share
The game with others–it’s morning out there.

Ember Nickel makes sport with the English language on her blog, Lipogram! Scorecard!

The Rangers lay their popguns down
Nolan Ryan sports a frown
The Cardinals new life have found
When Mr. Freese comes to town

The Texas bullpen crashes down
Nelson Cruz fields like a clown
The seat of Mark Lowe’s pants turns brown
When Mr. Freese comes to town

Bud Selig puts away the crown
Ol’ Dallas? One more cowtown
We all get a Game 7 showdown
When Mr. Freese comes to town

The ‘birds were turned back by Napoli
And their hitting missed the scenery
Ron’s dances and Punto’s charming wrongs
But wait a minute, something’s wrong…

Hey, Tony, Tony Italiano!
Hey, Tony, Tony Italiano!
No, no, no; no World Series win for you, you Sicialiano

Like Zeus with his shattering bolts
LaRussa’s best batter packs volts
.     Like a powerful god
.     from his towering bod
flows the juice to the bat of Puholz

I’m sure you all know by now that Hilary posts his limericks on monster movies, noir thrillers and comic books every day at LimerWrecks, but I thought I’d remind you all the same.