Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
By Stuart Shea
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There will be no wrapup.
There will be no highlights.
There will be no lamplights or postgame beers;
After 39 years
The Phillies have laryngitis.
Does God give us life to spite us?
Or is it stupid to hold to our fear
Of eternal nothingness?
If even a voice like Harry’s can be silenced in the great hall of life and death,
Then what’s the use of taking another breath?
In memory of Harry Kalas (1936-2009)
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Posted 4/14/09.
by David Margolis
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There is a young Phils fan from Nutley
Who roots for his team, and not subtly:
“I’ve a shrine in my home
And I’d write them a poem
But there’s nothing the rhymes with Chase Utley.”
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Posted 4/10/09
by Stuart Shea
PHILLIES
Some defending champs
Next spring find their magic dust
Doesn’t work so well.
METS
Many suns have set
Since Pedro Martinez could
Throw over 90.
MARLINS
Buy season tickets!
We’ll throw in a free car wash
By Marlins players.
BRAVES
No Smoltz, No Maddux
Only Glavine left to fly
Their once-proud banner.
NATIONALS
Jim Bowden’s mission:
To leave behind a steaming pile
On Anacostia’s banks.
Posted 3/18/09
by Todd Herges
The game was huge, as all involved know well.
It started with pomp, tradition and a pitch,
Then rain began, in sheets grew to a swell.
The field got wet, began to go to hell.
Tarp and sand were tried, but mattered not which.
The game was huge, as all involved know well.
A crew of groundsmen have a tale to tell.
If not for them would be no final catch.
The rain kept up, in sheets grew to a swell.
Lighting the swamp, a giant neon bell.
All prayed for sun lest park become a ditch.
The game was huge, as all involved know well.
The man on top, Commish, he made the call.
(This being-in-charge can really be a bitch.)
The rain did end, and Phils could victory smell.
Each Ray’s iPod echoed the same dark knell.
If but could face a Williams, maybe Mitch!
The game was huge, as all involved know well.
The rain asterisked rules, grew to a swell.
Posted 11/6/08
by Sid Yiddish
Apologies to Pete Seeger and his “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Long time hissing,
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Perhaps they’ll go live down in the sewers
with all the giant super rats,
that’ll make tasty meals for all those cats
Oh, where will they all go?
Oh, where will they all go?
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Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Long time hissing,
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Now that Durocher’s not there
To stare him down,
Well I guess that’s what Lou Pinella is for
Oh, where will they all go?
Oh, where will they all go?
.
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Long time hissing,
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Maybe they’ll all hook up with Billy Joel; he needs a new backing band,
if that last album of his doesn’t tell
you anything, then these cats will
Oh, where will they all go?
Oh, where will they all go?
.
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Long time hissing,
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
They’ll go clubbing with Howard Stern
He can never have enough cats on each arm,
While turning on that shock-jock charm
Oh, where will they all go?
Oh, where will they all go?
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Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
Long time hissing,
Where will all the feral cats in Shea Stadium go?
To feed the hungry, to feed the poor
Who can never afford much more than they make
Catsup & salt upon feral cat steak!
Oh, where will they all go?
Oh, where will they all go?
For more on Sid Yiddish’s poetry, music and performances, check out his My Space page.
Posted 10/28/08