Jose Valverde
By James Finn Garner
Like a monkey on a hurdy-gurdy
Jumps Papa Grande Valverde
As jumbled as a keyboard QWERTY
He gets batters to watch the birdie,
Then with control most absurd, he
Blows it by them, nice and purty.
His yellow glasses somewhat nerdy
Don’t match a gut profound and sturdy.
In interviews he’s somewhat wordy
(Though certainly no Krishnamurti)
Will his total saves reach twice 30?
Will the Motown squad get down and dirty?
With fickle hist’ry flirts he,
Our fireman Jose Valverde.
The New Busch Stadium is NOT a Rodent Trap!
By Stuart Shea
How could that squirrel
Send Roy Oswalt squirmin’?
Well, Cardinals eat seeds and
don’t hunt vermin.
Baseball Poem, One Pence
By Stuart Shea
He may look like Anthony Michael Hall,
But Hunter Pence can do it all.
Puts it over the right field wall
With the ugliest swing you ever … sall.
Post-Season Prediction Doggerel
by James Finn Garner
All the network media dorks
Sing the praises of New York
They hate visiting places strange
Like Motown and the Texas Range
They’d rather crawl through Gotham sewers
Than watch the Snakes or Rays or Brewers.
They’re happy as a dog with bone
To stay in th’ Eastern Time Zone.
But Yankees pitching ain’t worth a lick.
The Phillies are my pick, in six.
Reyes Sits At the Finish Line
By James Finn Garner
When Jose Reyes won the title
it gave us pause to check his mettle.
Which body part did serve him best:
His heart, his biceps, or his ass?
