A Ballad of Baseball Burdens
by Franklin Pierce Adams
The burden of hard hitting. Slug away
. Like Honus Wagner or like Tyrus Cobb.
Else fandom shouteth: “Who said you could play?
. Back to the jasper league, you minor slob!”
. Swat, hit, connect, line out, get on the job.
Else you shall feel the brunt of fandom’s ire
. Biff, bang it, clout it, hit it on the knob—
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of good pitching. Curved or straight.
. Or in or out, or haply up or down,
To puzzle him that standeth by the plate,
. To lessen, so to speak, his bat-renoun:
. Like Christy Mathewson or Miner Brown,
So pitch that every man can but admire
. And offer you the freedom of the town—
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of loud cheering. O the sounds!
. The tumult and the shouting from the throats
Of forty thousand at the Polo Grounds
. Sitting, ay, standing sans their hats and coats.
. A mighty cheer that possibly denotes
That Cub or Pirate fat is in the fire;
. Or, as H. James would say, We’ve got their goats—
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
The burden of a pennant. O the hope,
. The tenuous hope, the hope that’s half a fear,
The lengthy season and the boundless dope,
. And the bromidic; “Wait until next year.”
. O dread disgrace of trailing in the rear,
O Piece of Bunting, flying high and higher
. That next October it shall flutter here:
This is the end of every fan’s desire.
ENVOY
Ah, Fans, let not the Quarry but the Chase
. Be that to which most fondly we aspire!
For us not Stake, but Game; not Goal, but Race—
. THIS is the end of every fan’s desire.
Franklin Pierce Adams was a columnist and prolific doggerelist, best known for “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon (Tinker to Evers to Chance)”. This poem is from his book In Other Words (1912).
2013 NL West Prediction Haiku
By Stuart Shea
ARIZONA
As snakes in the grass
Lie in wait for their prey…Nah.
This team is just old.
COLORADO
Wise beyond his years,
or simply out of his league?
Walt Weiss’ springtime.
LOS ANGELES
Gold, silver, riches
beyond all compare will buy
just one Zack Greinke.
SAN DIEGO
At least it’s always
a lovely place to work on
The perfect suntan.
SAN FRANCISCO
Ladies: when seeking
wealthy East Bay pensioners,
Look for Series rings.
March Baseball
by Stephen Jones
There is nothing to speak of, so far
Except, maybe, mega-contracts, buying the World Series
and demonic trades, and key pre-season injuries
The Yankees are back with battered fixations
The Marlins are simply trade-and-bait
The Nationals are openly trepadacious
The Phillies are, well, on the clock
San Francisco, so far, is blowing smoke
Los Angeles is spending its bank
. . . and the list goes on
Summertime passion is now full-time
obsession and has little to do with “the game”
The World Series: It Just Happened, Right?
by Stephen Jones
After Hurricane Sandy, and some days -
a rout of water washed memory away -
I try and recall the World Series.
Television numbers, ratings a barometer
of national enthusiasm, were lower,
much lower. So how to dissect this?
Critics argue: the Series starts too late.
Schedule it to start on an earlier date.
But this alone doesn’t make the Series
more memorable. Maybe it was what
lack of punch Detroit brought to the plate?
Or San Fran’s sudden metamorphosis?
Maybe a team peaked too soon while the other
crested even above its own high water
mark? In a season, any team will do this.
If I was an ardent hometown fan, Yes
I’d crow from the bleachers unabashed.
My team won – that’s all that matters.
But past the TV hype, the predictions
and overwhelming prognostications,
I try and recall the World Series.
Something happened. Or maybe not.
It was like the last pitch of the last out:
Cabrera not blinking, not even swinging -
Detroit in the eye of a storm not of its doing.
World Series, Day 4
by Ember Nickel
There was an extra round and there was rain
And there were extras. None of that would keep
The playoffs from concluding in their main
Month here. Win by the sweep, lose by the sweep.
The Tigers could go yard once they would try it,
The Giants showed them how. It’s not too weird
To overhear the yelling from “the riot”
Nor to watch the closer’s secondhand beard.
Let the rain fall; today the sky is orange.
