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BITING

By Stuart Shea

Florida is on the map–the Marlins are hot!
You want a Cinderella story? This we’ve got!

A star in the making with an Uggly name,
A third baseman with a Can-tu approach,
A left fielder Willing-ham to work, and
A superstar shortstop beyond reproach.

VandenHurk didn’t work and
Taylor has Tankersleyed.
But Miller’s ground opponents up,
Kevin Gregg has been the top.
And there’s no bad hops–just Badenhop.

They cannot last, these wriggling Fish,
Swimming in deep water with Phils, Braves, and Mets,
But it’s fun while it lasts, yo,
To see the big boys controlled
By Olson, Treanor, and Nolasco,
And Luis Gonzalez, who is 90 years old.

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The Death of the Bleacher Bum

by Gary Gillette

From my mother’s basement I fell into the Friendly Confines,
And I hunched in its bleachers till my beer-soaked hair froze.
Six miles from first place, loosed from its dream of October,
I woke to black caps and the nightmare Sox fans.
When I puked my guts out, they washed them off the seats with a hose.

Paying homage to Randall Jarrell…

Posted 5/13/08 

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The Prime of Mr. Vladimir Guerrero

By Stuart Shea

Standing tall and smiling, a friendly Angel with no halo,
Vladimir Guerrero.
It’s hard to believe he once was an Expo.

It hurts just to watch him run,
Gobbling turf with gigantic strides,
Hobbling on rusty knees.

Still lets baseballs loose like cannon fire,
Nailing some runners and
Scattering buckshot into the stands.

Tattoos pitches wherever they’re thrown,
High in the zone or at his ankles,
Just like Clemente.
And I’ll tell you what rankles—we’re ignoring him.

We’re watching a great player RIGHT NOW.
See that line-drive triple? How he legged it out, limping like a war vet,
Sliding in, a big grin,
Clapping his hands?
For God’s sake, people, stand up for the man!!

Posted 4/30/08 

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Misery is the Name of the Game

by Sid Yiddish

We’re going back…back…back…

Hey! Hey! There’s a game today, but I’m not going.

No, I can’t afford it.

Seems to me only the privileged and the drunkards get to go and root for their team in the miserable Chicago rain, but misery is the name of the game, when the Cubbies are concerned.

So, like…are they truly worth the throngs of fans who become viciously unruly when the boys in blue are losing, or do they just booze it up with that last cupful of beer and when a swig is taken, realize that it’s just empty like that bullpen at the last half of the 6th?

It is neither magic, but perhaps more myth.

That, well, what if the Cubs were to win another pennant and go all the way and win that silver loving ashtray…

Keep dreaming losers, keep dreaming.

Posted 4/28/08 

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One Born Every Minute

by Sid Yiddish

I’ll never puke at home, yessirree,
While watching Fukudome play baseball on TV.
His hitting is sensational, a real superstar in his prime.

It’s just that…well, he plays for the Cubs,
America’s loveable losers, the Major League’s true blue flubs.

And well, I doubt he was brought in just for his ability to hit, no management needs to sell tickets and you can’t sell tickets to a game, if the team plays so lame, so you need to ornamentate the actuality with a little gold lame’.

Just to bring the suckers in…

Yeah, there’s one born every minute.

Posted 4/23/08Â