by Fred Lovato
Out doing errands
missed big innings by both teams
bad timing — my thing
Out doing errands
missed big innings by both teams
bad timing — my thing
Dodgers’ bats silenced
Stymied by “old man” on mound
Vintage Yu Darvish
Media wondered
Could Shohei handle spotlight?
Bat flip quashed concerns
I have never, ever,
since I managed,
ever
told a pitcher to throw at anybody,
nor will I ever.
And if I ever did,
I certainly wouldn’t
make him throw
at a
f–king .130 hitter like Lefebvre
or f–king Bevacqua,
who couldn’t hit water
if he fell
out of a f–king boat.
And I guaran-f–king-tee you this:
When I pitched
and I was going to pitch against a team
that had guys on it
like Bevacqua,
I sent a f–king limousine
to get the c–ksucker
to make sure
he was in the motherf–king lineup
because I kicked that c–ksucker’s ass
any day of the week.
He’s a f–king motherf–king big mouth,
I’ll tell you that.
Two weeks of contests in Paris
Of every conceivable style
Athletes honed like hardened steel
Ladecky, Tebogo, Yee, Li, Biles
What focus and determination
To swim, box, dive, run, throw
Pushing their mental endurance
And how far their bodies can go
They remind me of what John Kruk
Once told a hotel lobby hater.
He said, “Lady, I ain’t an athlete–
I’m a baseball player.”