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The Ghost Seats of Yankee Stadium

by James Finn Garner

I was warmly surprised

That the new Yankee Stadium

Has all those spare seats

(And good ones, too!)

For the ghosts of all the fans

In the Yankee Universe who never made it there:

The Bowery Bum who could never buy a ticket,

The upstate farmer who could never spare time,

The soldier who fought alongside Joltin’ Joe and never made it back,

The street kid who played catch with junk and never had a chance, at anything.

 

I bet a Bombers game on the radio

Was sometimes a cooling touch of silk that eased their minds,

And Yankee Stadium unseen was

A green heaven they didn’t know they wished for.

 

Now they’re behind home plate,

Feet up, leaning back,

Making good use of the space.

Here’s to them,

And to the good-hearted Yankees.

 

Posted 6/4/2009

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A Baseball Poem #2

by Stephen Jones

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Slower than a slider
the sun the breeze today
a wild pitch of weather is

The sky settled in May’s dugout
a month’s sun-and-cloud teaming
. . . and what of defense?

We’ll see large bulky clouds
crouch, the sun concuss
& diamond dreams evolve.

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For more of Stephen’s poetry and photographs, check out his blog.

Posted 6/1/2009

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A Baseball Poem #1

by Stephen Jones

All the marbles explosive
shuttled day-to-day each
& every swing a pitch

changing now the switch
to summer to the hard ball
arcing high a home run.

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For more of Stephen’s poetry and photographs, check out his blog.

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Posted 5/29/2009.

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From an Old Goat’s Notebook

by Sid Yiddish

“Baaah-ter up,” it bawls.
The old goat rises from its pen.
It’s got work to do before the clock strikes half past 10.

Time to prepare itself, for the annual sacrificial legend.
Just before the onslaught of the newly christened season of ballplayers checking themselves out and each other and the fans and the sports media doing the constant scrutinizing and studying to see if they match up just right.

“For my job, I admit it’s harder, and I get told often that I should quit while I’m ahead, but no, not quite yet.
Those Cubs will never win
As long as I’m alive!

“So here’s a toast to the Cubs,
To Chicago’s finest boys in blue,
(Not the cops, mind you).
May you go through another 162 games loveless and hopeless, till you slip away like so many fantasies of years gone by.
Ah yes!
Don’t cry, sweet Chicago, don’t cry!”

For more on Sid Yiddish’s poetry, music and performances, check out his My Space page.

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Posted 5/21/09

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Instant Replay Creates Perfect World

By James Finn Garner

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Now that cameras can detect and correct
Our errors and human frailty,
I call for a replay of

Fidrych talking to the ball,
Reggie hitting in October,
Bob Gibson staring,
Koufax stretching,
Veeck laughing,

DiMaggio’s war years,
And Hank Greenberg’s,

And 1994, which could have saved the Expos,
And spared us the Nationals,

And Cap Anson shutting his damned mouth
And Buck O’Neil playing for the Cubs,
Satchel Paige for the A’s,
And Cool Papa Bell for the Cardinals.

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Posted 5/14/09