Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Prometheus made Greeks of clay
and stoked their fire so they could play
a world of games. The Greeks built up
stone theaters shaped like a cup.
Stirred by classic Hellene teachers,
ballpark architects made bleachers.
Thus: homers fly to bums like us.
Come have a beer, Prometheus!
We may not have the arm speed
Of pitching aces
Or a swing that sends the ball
Over the wall
Or legs that make a game of
Stealing bases
Or a glove that magically
Astonishes all
But looking at the empty
Stands today
We understand the part we play.
The air is clear
The sky is blue
The sun is shining on the field
It’s a perfect day for baseball
No one in the stands
No runs no hits no errors
No movement in the pen
It’s a perfect day for baseball
The cathedral of the stadium
Has only feathered faithful
Praying for fallen peanuts
It’s a perfect day for baseball
It’s a perfect day for baseball
So let’s play the inside game
That knows no limits
That transcends time
It’s a perfect day for baseball
When Mariano offers up a cutter
To a smiling Stan the Man
And Willie makes a basket catch
It’s a perfect day for baseball
When Derek flips to Jackie
Who tosses to the luckiest
Man in the world, 6–4-#4
It’s a perfect day for baseball
When Roger hits one out
And Mickey hits one too
And Yogi says it’s deja vu
It’s a perfect day for baseball
When Hammerin’ Hank hits the wall
And the Splendid Splinter returns the ball
And Thurman lifts his mask and grumbles
It’s a perfect day for baseball
When Pee-Wee shakes a hand
And the Babe rounds the bases
Again with such small steps
On the canvas of absence
Let’s paint with the art of memory
Mixing colors and time
Let’s play the inside game
© 2020, by Raphael Badagliacca
A perfect swing
A perfect throw
A perfect eye
A perfect show
A perfect ‘mate
A perfect Joe
A perfect gentleman
Mr. Tiger, arigato.
What can I say
On this dreary day
When the rain sings
Of so many things
That defy reason
Like the sudden end
Of a season