Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
If Mad Bum, John, Jeff stay on fire,
Bullpen does the job Jints require,
Brandons Crawford and Belt,
Posey, Pence earn their gelt,
Team’s poised for long race to the wire.
First place team’s looking good in the field,
But if mid-summer, those dinged ain’t healed,
They’ll have to acquire
Those whom they require
To plug any leaks Giants need sealed.
As Giants’ Panda fan since his birth,
Loved the way Pablo played full of mirth–
Ate from both sides of plate,
Now he can’t hit his weight,
Sad he’s unfit to play with full girth.
After the Giants got Panda’s best,
The Red Sox will pay for the rest.
Jints dodged bullet by not
Matching loot Panda got.
Sox fans moan, Giants’ faithful feel blessed.
“At 8-1, the Cubs are off to their best start since 1969”
–news story, April 15, 2016
They’re hanging the bunting at Wrigley
. a hundred years after the Babe;
so many have waited so long for this day
. it’s hard to believe what we see.
My childhood knows Santo, Kessinger, Beckert and Banks,
. the trade of Lou Brock, the umpire’s mistake,
facing Giants and Pirates and Hammering Hank,
. the line-up of Bench, Morgan, Rose and Perez,
the grace of Clemente before he was dead,
. the stare-down of Gibson, Bob Veale and Koufax’s crank:
Lou Boudreau on radio made it appear
. as Athena to Hector, when Achilles was near.
The world is unworthy of childhood faith,
. the utter incorrigible truth of its love,
its weeping for heroes defeated by fate,
. its Aprils and Augusts, stolen bases, gold gloves.
All that is over. It’s daytime, there’s ivy,
. it’s got God’s own green grass,
the bunting is hanging, and so soon you’ll see
. God himself in his garden, all home at last.
Gene Fendt has taught philosophy for 29 years at the University of Nebraska, but grew up in Wisconsin listening to WGN, “radio home of millions throughout mid America.” His poetry most recently has captured the Princemere Poetry Prize (2015) and won the Gemini Magazine national poetry competition.
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.”
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.”