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


A Fan Long Irritated by Self-Proud Prattle

by Alan P. Rudy

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.



The Radio Fan Watches FOX

by Ember Nickel

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!



Tastee Freese

by James Finn Garner

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



Hey, Tony Italiano

by David Bellel

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



Swings the Body Electric (World Series Game 3)

by Hilary Barta

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.

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.