Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
“Can’t anyone here play this game?”
Casey asked his forces
Then saw that his team, the Mets
Had become the Metsamorphosis
Six legs are certainly faster
Than the measly two
Six hands perform much better
In keeping balls from getting through
But gripping bats and swinging
Proved to be quite hairy
As no bug could hit no better
Than big ol’ Marv Throneberry.
This season’s new sheer slacks
Provide some things the game now lacks
A visible swing, a casual sashay
As sometimes seen in the NBA
New fans may be attracted!
Other players (no names, please) distracted
Gabby coaches will look like fools
When yapping about a player’s tools
And the evidence will add a new wrinkle
To discussion of anyone’s “launch angle.”
Winter’s been raw as a campout in Banff,
Your new basement walls are moldy and damp,
Your curtains caught fire from a knocked-over lamp —
. Relax!
. Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.
Your check-writing hand’s developed a cramp,
Your bills are all due and you ain’t got a stamp,
Creditors cling to your neck like a clamp —
. Smile!
. Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.
Your yard is now split by a new freeway ramp,
Your son is engaged to a gold-digging tramp,
Your “guitar hero” neighbor’s just bought a new amp —
. Life is good!
. Pitchers and catchers are reporting to camp.
1B Josh Bell
2B Juan Bell
SS Les Bell
3B Buddy Bell
LF George Bell
CF Cool Papa Bell
RF Beau Bell
C Herman Bell, Terry Bell
LHP Chad Bell, Eric Bell, Fred Bell, Lefty Bell, Ralph Bell
RHP Bill “Ding Dong” Bell, Cliff Bell, Gary Bell, George Bell, Heath Bell, Hi Bell, Rob Bell, Trevor Bell
MGR Jayce Tingley
Catchers are a con,
With the masks that they don.
They move outside pitches in,
Making the umpire’s head spin.
Like a leathery snapping turtle,
Their fat gloves makes pitches fertile.
Fingers flash sneaky signs,
Keeping balls out of Wrigley’s vines.
But what catchers really hide,
Is that they have another side:
Their future after catching daily trouble,
May emerge as a post-playing days’ double.
Eyes darting, they see the whole field,
Imagining that someday they will wield
A baton like Connie, Gabby, Girardi, and Bochy,
And, of course, that wise backstop/leader named Yogi,
Who said, “It ain’t over till it’s over,”
Maybe meaning careers evolve forever.
Perhaps suggesting that a catcher is
To a big-league manager,
As a caterpillar eying the blue sky is
To an imperial monarch butterfly.
“It ain’t over till it’s over” is the last sentence of “Double Play,” Dr. Oza’s novel which will be published in 2024 by Chicago’s Third World Press. Dr. Oza is a management consultant and facilitates the interpersonal dynamics of MBAs at Stanford University.