Browse all poems and songs in the 'San Francisco Giants' Category

Snake Bit

by the Village Elliott

When promoting men, Napoleon stuck
With this principle, “I look for luck.”
He would not buck the odds
And offend Baseball Gods
Shutting down Strasburg like a dumb schmuck.

Nats seem clueless and snake bit to me
Since the Strasburg Shut-Down travesty;
‘Fourteen’s Playoff Game Two:
Belt’s home run “lucky,” too;
Papelbon trade upset chemistry.

Dusty Baker will manage D.C.
Buddy’s tenure with Nats not to be;
Did Nats react to claim,
That “Black” in Bud’s last name,
Ain’t what league meant by diversity?

Seems like Dusty’s a bit snake bit, too,
Since Jints Series Game Six in ‘Ought Two,
His Cubs sure got jiggley
Post-Bartman in Wrigley,
Posey’s Granny bid his Reds adieu . . .

Months after our softball season’s through,
Pitcher our team beat still had no clue.
“Schedule and your team suck,
Only beat us by luck!”
“Yeah, we’re lucky we were playing you.”


What a Season — And It Ain’t Over Yet

by James Finn Garner

So now, my friends, it has come to this,
The World Series of 2015
The kids ablaze on the New York Amazin’s
Versus the Big Blue Royal Machine.

Let’s consider all that’s gone before
As we bid the warm weather goodbye
Some teams did roll as had been foretold
While others came through with surprise.

The new Cubbie kids swung some mean bats
The Blue Jays refused to show fear
Motown fell dead, now needs a retread
While the Giants await an even year.

The Dodgers in their close-ups again blinked
Staid St. Louis became hot and unglued
The Nationals sputtered, then throttled each other
The Lone Star State watched a marvelous feud

So when someone tells you baseball is boring,
Whether online, at work, in a bar,
Don’t chuckle or sigh. Look them straight in the eye
And say, “Baseball’s not boring — you are.”


Mutual Parting

by the Village Elliott

Today, this Giants fan’s feeling blue,
Team’s worst nightmare at last has come true.
Unlike Jim Harbaugh–Niners,
Don Mattingly–Dodgers
“Mutual parting” long overdue.

LA Bums “Donny Ballplayer” led:
High-priced Blue-Bloods that Dodgers Blue bled.
“Donny Manager” flailed
Since first mound visit failed,
When Jints’ Bruce Bochy got in his head.



One Fine Day

by the Village Elliott

For Hank Gowdy

Gee Golly, Boy Howdy,
I just met Hank Gowdy,
Great War hero and World Series star,
Was a Miracle Brave,
Till he joined in first wave,
First pro swap unis, march off to war.
In left field today sit,
With my dad and my mitt,
Can’t imagine a day could be finer,
Till I heard the bat crack,
Heard crowd roar, “Back . . . back . . . back . . .”
I caught home run hit by Ralph Kiner.

I was barely a teen,
Caught betwixt and between,
But grew up to accumulate stuff.
Still my Great Legacy:
Photo: Hank, Bro and me,
One fine day below old Coogan’s Bluff.


The VE explains:  “In July, Dick Volk showed me a photo of himself as a young teenager. It was taken at the Polo Grounds in 1948, and included his older brother, posing with 53-year-old New York Giants coach Hank Gowdy. It was another era. In fact, it is exactly 100 years since Hank led the Boston Braves upset sweep of Connie Mack’s ‘White Elephants’, three years before he became the first Major Leaguer to enlist for WWI. My friend met Hank three years after Hank mustered out a second time, having re-upped as an Army physical education instructor for the duration.”

Never Give Up . . .

by Celeste Johnson

Never give up. When you are down, when you are injured,
When you have been humiliated, never give up.
That is mantra of the Orange and Black. Never give up.
Whether through injury or misfortune,
Patches so rough it feels as if you will never win again,
Never give up. Injuries of all description
Shut out three straight. Can’t buy a hit or an out.
Never give up.  Never give in.  Never truer
Than a late September game named to honor
Two Giants in more than just name.
Exemplar to resilience and heart and honoring the game.
In careers revisited of course but also to honor the men that
They are.  Huddy and Z as they are affectionately
Known. Men amongst men. But life rarely conforms
To the scripts that we write. And baseball has a way of
Writing itself.  Refusing to be confined to our smaller vision.
Baseball finds a way to grow beyond the boundaries
That we set for it.  On a day meant to honor the past
The future steps forward to write its own ending.
Future unknown but for this moment
A kid steps into the light to have the game of his life.
And, allowing redemption is Baseball’s beauty.
Blunder in field leads to promises made;
Promises kept.  Parker steps to the plate in eighth
And in answer to wild and woolly game sends
First pitch over the right field wall and
Into History.  Three home runs in single game.
Seven runs driven in.  First Giant since 1961
When Mays completed the task.
Rookie speechless when informed of scope of his feat.
Baseball renews itself.  In a game meant
To honor the past, the Future steps forward.
With beauty and strength and youthful verve,
The kid rounds the bases and, as a stadium exults,
Huddy stands with a smile as big as life,
Just honored to have witnessed its renewal.
And proud to have been a part of this Orange and Black
Family that never gives up. They would not know how.
It is not in their nature.  A fact and feeling that Z can
Attest to, having been the heart of such resilience in postseason past.
Baseball renews and remembers, honoring both in one day.


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Copyright 2007 Bardball.