Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
ATLANTA BRAVES
It’s a New Brave World,
New players, new chief, newspeak,
And an old Chipper.
FLORIDA MARLINS
A Southern poser:
If teams play in the forest
Will anyone care?
NEW YORK METS
Luis Castillo
Will drop pop-ups someplace else
This sunny summer.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES
The best rotation?
Either what the Phillies have
Or the earth itself.
WASHINGTON NATIONALS
Despite higher Werth,
From Ankiel to Zimmerman
They’ll still be boring.
Zach Grienke’s arm is hinky.
Jake Peavy’s feeling skeevy.
Adam Wainwright’s wing ain’t right.
Rich Harden’s asked for pardon.
Brad Lidge is off a smidge.
That goes ditto for Johnny Cueto.
And an inflamed elbow is causing
Pain for Jason Isringhausen.
Thank God for March,
So these great apes
Have one less month
To fall out of shape.
by Cormican
In the euphoria of the NLCS, this Phillies fan contemplated a pitching duel for the ages and channeled the spirit of Edgar Allan Poe for this poem. Alas, the matchup wasn’t meant to be, which adds the appropriate amount of heartbreak to this homage to Poe.
It was many and many a month ago
.  In a ballpark in NYC
That an Ace there pitched so nonchalant
.  That caught pop-ups non-chalantly
He was an ace and Doc was an Ace
. at this ballpark in South Philly
Dare we dream of a game that is more than a game
. One with Halladay – Lee
With an arm that the horned demons in Bronx
. Coveted Clifton P. Lee
And this was the reason that, months ago
. In this ballpark in South Philly
A smug came out, refurbished the farm
. by trading our Clifton P. Lee
So that our deep pocket neighbors can
. can sign him from SEA
To set him up with Sabbathia
. In their kingdom in NYC
The Rangers, not half as blessed with pitching
. Went trading with SEA for Lee
Yes, this was the season (as old men know,
. for the team that was once from DC)
That the Doc came out of a cold north town
. Starting and stopping their Clifton P. Lee
But their team it was far stronger than the teams
. Of those with Chocolate Chili
. Of those with Jerry Garci…
And neither the Angels in Los Angeles/Anaheim
. Or the demons in Bronx, NYC
Can ever dissever Game one from Game one
. ‘gainst Rangers,’gainst Yankees
For when a game starts, the players start winning my heart
. Especially Halladay – Lee
Other stars will rise, but none, in my eyes
. match the aces that this night I see
And so as the sun died, I sat down on my hide
With my Yuengling – my Riesling – my team and my bride
. See the stadium in South Philly
. In the glory of Halladay – Lee.
Found on the Phillies blog, The Good Phight.
The approaches vary
and depend upon the man.
As each one rises
from the subterranean dugout lair
.    onto the field and
.    into the light
you feel his aging body ambulate;
sense his agile mind run through options.
The long walk to the mound a torture.
How many millions –
susceptible to the power of suggestion –
crack open a bottle of ibuprofen
every time Charlie saunters past the ump
and up onto that steep hill:
oh the tired sore legs; oh the aching back.
Slow and ponderous the stride, with smoothness
borne of painful experience.
How many millions reach for chondroitin
whenever Bruce toddles to home
for his double-switch notification,
touching his arm before he’s taken two steps
with subconscious hope that the reliever
will beat him to the mound and take the ball
directly from the predecessor.
Slow and rickety-stiff, with youthfulness
bound in his body like a Gulliver.
Yes Bochy’s bones and Manuel’s muscles
are there for all to see
on the great pennant stage Twenty Ten:
Bruce wants bad to keep walking;
Charlie to do it again.
Oh, what is to be done with Brooks
If you can’t blame umpiring crooks,
Nor looming Giants, hated mooks,
Nor your peers, inadvertent schmucks?
Pilfer question marks from scorebooks
Recording dodgy moves by rooks?
Pelt him with food from angry cooks?
Hope he retreats to distant nooks?
Or just give him frustrated looks
And celebrate Cox’ final hooks?
The peerless Ember Nickel blogs at Lipogram! Scorecard!