Yesterday we played, we played baseball
the pitcher pitched and I whacked the ball
it flew over Maine
and a Japanese train
it flew over a polar ice cap
it was seen by some English chaps
some soldiers saw it in Afghanistan
and as it flew it learned Uzbekistan
it flew over the Great Barrier Reef
in North Dakota it sampled some beef
but just as it landed in Moscow
the umpire called it  foul

Owen P. is a fifth-grade student in Chicago.

It took no time for Yu Darvish
To find the knack for U.S. hitters.
His April’s been quite close to marv-ish,
A barbecue of forks and splitters.

Hey Yu, take care through summer’s grind,
Of your trainers’ words be heedful,
Cuz Dallas’ heat can melt the mind
And Texas chili’s lethal.

Rule #1
Back before Harry Caray, Santo, and Hughes
The bleachers held young actors paying their dues.
But Belushi and Murray knew Rule Number 1:
Remember, always, there’s a game going on.

Rule #2
Buy a scorecard, keep score, and follow along.
If you don’t know how, there’s an app on your phone.
Sit your butt down when you hear, “Down in front!”
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.

Rule #3
Don’t go to get nachos when a runner’s on base.
Ignore your full bladder, that babe you might chase.
Just get up between innings or when a pitcher is gone.
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.

Rule #4
Don’t sit back of home plate and gab on your phone.
When you show up on TV, you’ll look like a clown.
Get back to your scorecard; you might miss a home run.
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.

Rule #5
The game lasts nine innings, don’t have any doubt.
Don’t stand for the pitcher until the last out.
Standing adds drama that doesn’t belong,
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.

Rule #6
Remember that baseball’s the reason you came,
There’re plenty of sports bars for after the game.
No one cares how much cash you paid your salon,
Remember Rule Number 1: there’s a game going on.

The wife-and-husband team of Becky Binks and Cary Donham intrepidly support the Cubs from the far South Side enclave of Beverly.

Taking Higher Ground

by Michael X. Ferraro

Chris Davis’s 0-fer-8 night ended in bliss.
Five times did the DH swing-swing-swing and miss.
So, post-platinum sombrero, why the big grin?
‘Cause he tossed two scoreless and picked up the win.

………………………………………………………………………………..

The Ballad of Chris Davis

by Stu Shea

How does a player go 0-for-8
And still win himself the game ball?
Move from DH to the pitching mound
And make major-league hitters look small.

Whiffed Piazza, Harold Baines,
Eric Davis, Hardrock Raines.
Batters swung and bade goodbye,
Carlos Beltran, Russell Dye.
BJ Surhoff, Albert Belle,
Junior Griffey, Pat Burrell.
None of them could solve his tricks.
Then the gods sent Jayson Nix.

Struck out Nomar, Randy Wynn,
Tori Hunter, Tony Gwynn.
Mighty bats would disappear,
Juan Gonzalez, Rusty Greer,
Jeffrey Hammond, Jim Thome,
Julio Franco, Jason Bay.
Silent went their famous sticks.
Then the gods sent Jayson Nix.

At 41, not nearly through,
ERA still under two.
Twelve times in the All-Star game,
Sure bet for the Hall of Fame.
Greatest pitcher still alive,
Could have gone ’till 45.
Who among us saw the fix
When the gods sent Jayson Nix?

Hart Seely’s dangerous book, The Juju Rules, is available now in bookstores and at Amazon.

Baseball’s Hall of Fame hails a time-honored game,
That cannot be settled by clock.
Inning after inning, no team is winning,
I’d opt not to buy tickets or stock.

If one is so clever, a game can last forever,
A tie score all knotted at zip.
Ruth started the line-up, need new hitters to sign up,
Like Bonds who can make a round trip.

But we may never survive to see a line drive,
For me the game just drives me bonkers.
Be it Brooklyn or Yanks, if you ask me, “No thanks!”
The Bronx just bombed out, on to Yonkers!

This time-worn tradition should be sent to perdition,
The outcome has outlasted my strength.
Would there be sudden death? Please don’t hold your breath,
This game of ages is just so by its length!

Jamie Moyer, long of tooth,
Nabs a win at 49.
Never pitched to ol’ Babe Ruth
But babysat him one time.

Michael X. Ferraro is a TV writer/producer and author of Numbelievable: The Dramatic Stories Behind the Most Memorable Numbers in Sports History and Tased & Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.

President Lincoln, skip that show!
Amelia Earhart, please don’t go!
Dillinger, don’t trust that vamp!
Joba, please . . . avoid that tramp.

JFK, don’t take that ride!
Dr. King, sir, stay inside!
Julius Caesar, ditch that crown!
Joba, jump . . . just don’t come down.

Gorbachev, tear down this wall!
America, free beer for all!
Mariano, please don’t go!
Joba . . . say it isn’t so.

Hart Seely’s new book, The Juju Rules: Or How to Win Ballgames from Your Couch, is now in bookstores.  He also runs the essential Yankee blog, It Is High, It Is Far, It Is . . . caught.

The Northwest, known for its lumber,
Was at a loss to figure Phil Humber
Who deftly dialed the M’s number
In shadows, sun and penumber.
Could Starbucks have ended their slumber?
No matter, their bats were encumbered
In a masterpiece, shaded in umber,
The perfecto for new ace, Phil Humber

“Cheering the Beard” is such a thorny notion
It nearly got Ozzie chucked in the ocean.

Instead he crash-landed in water so hot
‘T’would turn a refugee raft ‘to a teapot.

Down in Miami, fidelity to Fidel
Earns one the stature of Eddie Gaedel.

So Guillen, he of cojones inflated,
Went way overboard and got Castro-ated!*

(* But while landing Hernandezes at the beach
Let’s try not to trample all over free speech.)

Michael X. Ferraro is a TV writer/producer and author of Numbelievable: The Dramatic Stories Behind the Most Memorable Numbers in Sports History and Tased & Amused: The Shocking Poetic Recap of the 2010 Baseball Season.