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2008 NATIONAL LEAGUE THREE-LINE PREVIEWS

By Stuart Shea

ATLANTA

Clean Living,
A Fast Outfield,
And a Chipper Jones.
(With apologies to Vernon “Lefty” Gomez)

ARIZONA

Upton can play,
And he’ll need to, no doubt,
If Eric Byrnes out.

CHICAGO

Sweet Lou wants it understood,
That the newbies—Pie, Soto, and Fukudome—will be good
(Knock on Wood).

CINCINNATI

Votto, Bruce, and Bailey make the Redlegs’ future bright.
But with Dusty in the drivers’ seat,
The Kids Aren’t Alright.

COLORADO

While the defending champs get little respect
And their city’s baseball pedigree is suspect
The Rockies are deep—and better than you’d expect.

FLORIDA

A rotation thinner than loose-leaf paper
And one, maybe two, good hitters to savor?
This could get Uggly.

HOUSTON

They need a Pitching ComeBacke.
A NewBourn Attack…
And Hot Towles!

LOS ANGELES

Many pitchers with questions,
Position player congestion–
By now, one hopes Joe Torre has a remedy for indigestion.

MILWAUKEE

Hardy-Harted Men,
Princes with Braun and wise Counsell,
Just need clean Sheets.

NEW YORK

Health to go with wealth.
Johan and Pedro (not Feliciano)
And, apparently, an Angel in the outfield.

PHILADELPHIA

Rollins, Howard, Utley, Burrell, and Feliz
Will give the Phillies plenty of pow.
But can they hit more homers than their pitchers allow?

PITTSBURGH

Steve will Pearce the outfield soon,
With Nady gone by June,
And Jason up on eBay.

ST. LOUIS

Such teams with little hope need luck,
Albert,
And divine intervention.

SAN DIEGO

An outfield and infield of maybes
Could make Padres’ pitchers sick,
But Buddy Black don’t give a Fick.

SAN FRANCISCO

So the post-Bonds era begins,
And no one expects many wins.
Thank God for the Garlic Fries.

A WASHINGTON HAIKU

Two fat first basemen
Could sink their park into the
Anacostia.

Posted 4/2/08

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Tales of (Trevor) Hoffman

by Stu Shea

Change-up, change-up.
He makes hitters clowns.
It floats to the plate
And it sits right down.

Change-up, change-up.
Off mediocre “heat,”
You feel real comfy,
But still you get beat.

I wonder if Hoffman
Throws change-ups in bed
Or if Mrs. Hoffman
Likes it “dead red.”

 

 

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The Flight of Goose Gossage

by Sandy Marshall

Goose Gossage,
Goose Gossage,
You are your own Bossage,
You have your own mitt that you sign and Embossage.

Goose Gossage,
Goose Gossage,
You always will Flossage,
Your round rolling stone will ne’er gather no Mossage.

Goose Gossage,
Goose Gossage,
You boot up with DOSsage,
You always predict the results of coin Tossage.

Goose Gossage,
Goose Gossage,
Your car drives with Nossage,
And you play like you dance, like the winged Bob Fossage.

(Sandy’s site, with his comedy teammates: Schadenfreude.net)

Posted 8/3/07

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For Rod Beck

When we heard of the death of The Shooter

We all grabbed a beer and a smoke…

And we toasted the long-ago memories

And the quick way he had with a joke.

He’s dead, just 38.

It makes no sense

To those of us here on the outside.

Why him? He seemed normal.

Never formal,

So unaffected by the fame

Of the great game,

But sometimes worlds don’t collide.

For some, there’s no life after baseball.

For some, there’s no way to adjust.

So he left his wife and two children

In a cloud of motorhome dust.

He’s dead, just 38.

He died alone

In Phoenix, for God’s sake.

It’s got to be a mistake.

Sure, he liked a beer and his cigarettes.

That was part of his character.

But beneath the veneer

Of that which is legal,

it all was much worse.

The curses

Of hard drugs and failure

Of arm injuries and rehab

Are tough on athletes

With nothing else to do.

You can’t fish all day.

You can’t drink beer all day.

But when you’re Rod Beck,

And the dream is gone,

What do you do with your time

But look for the next high

And kiss each day goodbye?