Browse all poems and songs in the 'New York Mets' Category


Sgt. Pepper’s 2015 Forecast: “Getting Better”

by James Finn Garner

I used to get mad up in Queens
At that flub-driven, do-nothing team
but Omar Minaya’s long said “Sayonara”
The rebuild is picking up steam.

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
I have to admit they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

The rotation has Senor Colon
An anchor in more ways than one
Jakob deGrom is really da bomb
I hope Wheeler’s arm isn’t done

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
We’ve heard it before — they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

I’ve been patient with Granderson, Ruben Tejada, and everyone else on this weak-swinging squad,
I trust David Wright is finally right
And God protect Travis d’Arnaud.

I admit they’re getting better
A little better all the time
They’re not the Yanks — they’re getting better
The Mets are better! And I roll my eyes.

 



Spring 2015

by Nathan Rudy

My Mets will win games, that much is clear,
With Harvey, deGrom and others this year.
If Cuddyer can hit, and Flores finds his mitt,
We won’t toss Alderson out on his ear.

But the best is out west, in the dry Vegas air,
Pitching their hearts out as arm tendons tear.
Matz, Monterro and Thor now are great,
But can’t reach the majors ‘til 21 days late.

So fans of the Mets will continue to fret,
Ownership’s bank account hasn’t recovered yet,
And hope for a year when we surpass 81,
And get to the playoffs ‘fore this century’s done.

 



National League East 2015 Spring Training Haiku

By Stuart Shea

Braves
“The Braves will be good”???
…what I like about the South
Is its humility

Marlins
Oh, Giancarlo,
Is 300 mil enough
To stand Loria?

Mets
It was a bright day
When the Wheel fell off the cart
Leaving three good ones

Phillies
Men with few assets
Should not bargain as if they
Can afford to wait

Nationals
The young man acts young;
His elders, who know better,
Lecture and complain

 



To Arms! To Arms!

by Stephen Jones

It is, so far, a winter to remember.
Our dreams in the Northeast
Are huddled in a Valley Forge.
Our ballparks have been seized,
Taken by the “white coats” of snow

But in places to the south,
With names like St. Lucie and St. Pete,
The “Sons of Liberty” are unlimbering
They are pitching and catching;
They are heeding the call:

To arms! To arms!

Pitchers and catchers — to arms!

 



Baseball Record

by Steven D. Johnson

Five hundred eleven – the wins of Cy
near three sixty-seven – the bat of Ty
But in baseball heaven, just blink an eye . . .
.    and records will be broken.

Just look at Babe Ruth – seven hundred fourteen
.    To tell you the truth, his home runs were seen
.        to hold a record not passed – thirty-nine years, ‘til alas
Hank Aaron’s bat was woken.

Yet there is a record that will ever stand,
.    but it’s not Ted Williams, and it’s not Stan the Man
.        don’t look to Tris Speaker, don’t bank on Pete Rose
.           for this baseball record every ballplayer knows
.    belongs, yes it does, to another.

It’s not for stolen bases – though Oakland’s a believer
.    nor is it held by aces – like Gibson, Ford or Seaver
No, the sole baseball mark that will hold in every park
.    belongs to father, son, and brother.

The record that won’t break, held through highs and heartache,
is going seven-for-seven, every baseball season week
.    since 1911 – now that is quite a feat!
It’s keeping baseball alive since 1925.
It’s zero games missed since 1886.
It’s giving ballplayers a reason
.    to thrive in baseball season.

Yes, the only baseball record
.    that will maintain its stand
.        belongs to the beloved,
.            committed baseball fans!

 

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