Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
1BÂ Â John Kruk
2BÂ Â Tick Houston
SSÂ Â Sibby Sisti
3BÂ Â Crash Davis
LFÂ Â Jim Zapp
CFÂ Â Bing Miller
RFÂ Â Buzz Boyle
CÂ Â Steve Swisher
LHPÂ Â Brian Bark, Doug Creek,
RHPÂ Â Zach Pop, Craig Dingman, Whammy Douglas, Yorman Bazardo
MGRÂ Â Dink Mothell
Lasorda’s at his heavenly rendezvous,
his heart giving its final drop of blue.
He became a foul-mouthed savior
and then his team’s ambassador.
Still, before Brooklyn was a borough,
the team began by making heroes.
When Jackie broke the racial limit,
the Dodgers forced all sports to pivot.
Then, a Moses drove them to exile
by denying them space, and meanwhile
as Bridegrooms to the Yankees,
O’Malley packed up the team to leave.
Departing Brooklyn with a series ring,
they bid Tommy addio with the same thing.
A former New Yorker, Bill Cushing lives and writes in Los Angeles as a Dodger fan (by order of his wife!). His latest collection, Just a Little Cage of Bone (Southern Arizona Press), contains this and other sports-related poems.
Two weeks of contests in Paris
Of every conceivable style
Athletes honed like hardened steel
Ladecky, Tebogo, Yee, Li, Biles
What focus and determination
To swim, box, dive, run, throw
Pushing their mental endurance
And how far their bodies can go
They remind me of what John Kruk
Once told a hotel lobby hater.
He said, “Lady, I ain’t an athlete–
I’m a baseball player.”
Eloy was my boy
His power was a gimme
A South Side homeboy
Just like Pico and Timmy.
These faces are all gone — oy!
Ruined, traded, DFA’d.
The advice of Sox coaches, boy,
Should make any player afraid.
Now there’s no joy
At 35th and Shields
Hope is destroyed
At Fill-in-the-Blank Field.
Should we ask the batboy?
Maybe he has a solution.
The EPA should deploy
To contain this pollution.
