Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Mike Trout
An All-Star, but out,
A parallel, I suppose,
To his post-season career with the Halos.
Ozzie Albies
Likes to trek through the tall trees
And ask the numberless stars
How many Ozzies there are.
Carlos Rodón
Has got it goin’ on
Non-tendered after 2020
Now mowing down batters like el jefe.
Buster Posey
Doesn’t want to be nosey
But just wants to know that
You’re gonna finish eating that?
When the ASG did Manfred abort,
“Job creators” took baseball to court.
“Irreparable harm”?
The judged marked their smarm
And mocked how their case came up short.
“To say that the legal underpinnings of this lawsuit are weak and muddled is an understatement.”
Don’t dig in against Bob Gibson, he’ll knock you down.
He’d knock down his own grandmother if she dared to challenge him.
Don’t stare at him, don’t smile at him, don’t talk to him.
He doesn’t like it.
If you happen to hit a home run,
don’t run too slow,
don’t run too fast.
If you happen to want to celebrate,
get in the tunnel first.
And if he hits you, don’t charge the mound,
because he’s a Gold Glove boxer.
I’m like, damn, what about my seventeen-game hitting streak?
That was the night it ended.
In memory of Del Crandall, catcher for the Boston and Milwaukee Braves (1930-2021)
A stocky kid from the Bronx
I was bent on being the next Yogi.
So, when given the chance to get
A signed Del Crandall mitt, I said,
Yes, please, and gladly crouched behind the plate.
Your perfect gauntlet gave me confidence,
Let me use my armor to block home,
Throw out runners and somehow guide pitchers.
I rooted for you, sir (except for the ’57 and ’58 Series).
Easy crossing, Mr. Crandall. Hi to Yogi and Roy.
AKA Holliday Road
The left foot of young Alec Bohm
Elusively angled toward home.
The ump called him safe,
Yet the Braves still chafe
Since the replay was clear as foam.