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Winners From Japan (World Baseball Classic Remix)

by Ember Nickel

.
Winners
Yes, once again they won
Runners
Have scored the winning run
Extras
Will make us soldier on
Sometimes
The games will run on long

I am trying to find out
To see what it’s all about
Keeping my head down
Don’t think that it matters now
But I have no doubt
We’re never safe, always out.

That night
They scored the winning run
They dreamed
About a rising sun
Oh, oh, oh
Why dream
When you’ve already won?

I am trying to find out
To see what it’s all about
Keeping my head down
Don’t think that it matters now
But I have no doubt
One day the sun will come down.

.

A former contributor to Baseball Toaster, Ember’s blog is Lipogram! Scorecard!, where this poem first appeared.

Posted 4/28/09

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Yankee Stadium Exhibition Opener

by Ember Nickel

.

Precariously perched between the spring
Of simple fantasies and the real thing
Becoming more peerless with every day–
Can I criticize an excuse to play?

I watched it on the computer, full-screen.
The scoreboards I’ve  seen look much like this. Bright
Garish ads with limitless width and height.
The game filled the screen, and usually worked.
But sometimes it jerked and blurred, like it had
Been magnified too far, like that was bad.
Four-four in the fourth inning. Fours could not
Be wild, I’d thought. Too big for the game
They might repeat–but it is not the same.

.

A former contributor to Baseball Toaster, Ember’s blog is Lipogram! Scorecard!, where this poem first appeared.

Posted 4/13/09.

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There Was A House

by Hart Seely

There was a House that Ruth Built
Beloved throughout the town.
It didn’t please the millionaires,
And so they tore it down.

It didn’t have a steak house.
No discos could be found.
The catered boxes were too few,
And so they tore it down.

They wailed about necessity,
Each face portrayed a frown,
But ticket prices were too low,
And so they tore it down.

They cried about tradition.
Great anguish, all around.
But money calls the shots these days,
And so they tore it down.

They’ll tell you how the clubhouse stank,
From sewers underground.
They never thought of fixing things.
They simply tore it down.

Oh, somewhere, fans still celebrate,
Great ballparks of renown.
There’ll be no joy in Mudville.
They went and tore it down.

Posted 9/22/08

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The End?

By Stuart Shea

The Cubs are the best team in baseball.
So good that your toes may curl.
I’m worried that we may be approaching the end of the world.

A black man may become president.
No matter what sludge Repubs hurl.
I’m worried that we may be approaching the end of the world.

The hole in the ozone layer is wide–
With enough space to fit Terry Forster inside
Our societies reek of fratricide
While starving untold millions have died.

Just like in Kinsella’s great story,
Those in control don’t know what to do.
All I know is that when we all go
We prob’ly won’t bleed Cubbie blue.

 

Posted 8/15/08 

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A Prayer for the Yankees

by Hart Seely

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord Phil Hughes to keep.

If Wang should die before I wake,
I pray no Cleveland trade we make,

If Boston hears that siren cry,
I pray they land that C.C. guy,

And when they sign him there to stay,
I pray his elbow starts to fray.

But when teams call, O, hear me, Lord,
I pray Montero stays onboard.

And though it’s true we must improve,
I pray that Melky doesn’t move.

And though his outings were not long,
I pray that Ian comes back strong.

I pray no deals we make this night.
Except Igawa… that’s all right.

Posted 7/2/08Â