Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Biceps like well-tempered iron,
Frightening to see,
Was Ted Kluszewski.
No shirtsleeves wore he,
Did Ted Kluszewski.
And if you asked him why, he’d
Grind you into loose tea.
In his day he was feared,
The toughest man on the Ponderosa.
But today his muscles are matched
By Sammy Sosa
And Mark DeRosa.
Felix is not a cat nor catcher.
He is a very large pitcher.
Batters do not like to face his deliveries.
He will grow very much richer.
I.
Jack Cust
Has become a must!
Beating pitchers into dust.
Jack Cust
Has earned the trust
Of Oakland fans with home-run lust.
Jack Cust
Is free of rust
Despite demotions so unjust.
II.
Billy Beane sussed that Jack Cust
Wouldn’t go bust.
But even he must be nonplussed
By the heroic thrust
Of Jack Cust.
by Stu Shea
“Today I make a promise from my soul
That I will try my best in my new role.
I will not swing at sliders aimed at my back foot,
Nor run the bases like I’m wearing gumboots.
Or make a six-hop throw toward the plate
That never gets the runner ’cause it’s late.
I hope that I can keep this oath.”
“You and me both.”
Posted 6/21/07
By Stu Shea
Sure, they won the World Series just two years ago,
But that’s history, bro.
Get hip!
Chicago is slumping
The media’s dumping
And everyone’s jumping the ship.
The season’s turned into the crumbs of corn chips.
No one’s even surprised
At Guillen’s rude slips of the lip
For his team’s gotten older
And the value of aging, .230-ish sluggers is —Â zip.
Shouldn’t someone ring Kenny Williams’ bell?
Inform him, pray tell,
That after two years,
Even good socks can smell?