Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
By Stuart Shea
If Sandoval is “Kung Fu Panda,”
Can other nicknames be out of mind?
Tim Lincecum? How ’bout “Beanstalk Boy”?
Aaron Rowand? He’s “Left Behind.”
Brian Wilson’s “Fuzzy Wuzzy,”
Cody Ross–“October Blast!”
Aubrey Huff is already “Tough,”
And Andres Torres is “Fading Fast.”
The approaches vary
and depend upon the man.
As each one rises
from the subterranean dugout lair
.    onto the field and
.    into the light
you feel his aging body ambulate;
sense his agile mind run through options.
The long walk to the mound a torture.
How many millions –
susceptible to the power of suggestion –
crack open a bottle of ibuprofen
every time Charlie saunters past the ump
and up onto that steep hill:
oh the tired sore legs; oh the aching back.
Slow and ponderous the stride, with smoothness
borne of painful experience.
How many millions reach for chondroitin
whenever Bruce toddles to home
for his double-switch notification,
touching his arm before he’s taken two steps
with subconscious hope that the reliever
will beat him to the mound and take the ball
directly from the predecessor.
Slow and rickety-stiff, with youthfulness
bound in his body like a Gulliver.
Yes Bochy’s bones and Manuel’s muscles
are there for all to see
on the great pennant stage Twenty Ten:
Bruce wants bad to keep walking;
Charlie to do it again.
Oh, what is to be done with Brooks
If you can’t blame umpiring crooks,
Nor looming Giants, hated mooks,
Nor your peers, inadvertent schmucks?
Pilfer question marks from scorebooks
Recording dodgy moves by rooks?
Pelt him with food from angry cooks?
Hope he retreats to distant nooks?
Or just give him frustrated looks
And celebrate Cox’ final hooks?
The peerless Ember Nickel blogs at Lipogram! Scorecard!
by Ashkon
At least now, a Bay Area team can employ the Bay Area Band anthem:
Consider the case of Tim Lincecum,
With veins of ice water and an arm made of gum.
He looks like a stoner, but he isn’t dumb.
Those Cy Youngs weren’t promos packaged with rum.
He made Cox and the Braves rue they had come.
All D-Lee saw was a blur and a hum.
When he eats your lunch, dude, he won’t leave a crumb.
The Giants’ new hero, Ted Lincecum.