One hundred and four, nothing yet
One hundred and four, not a threat
All those years, win or lose
Always cheers, never boos
One hundred and four of regret

Hilary Barta was recently interviewed by the Chicago Tribune about the upcoming Roy Lichtenstein exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago.  They didn’t mention his Cub fandom, but it’s obviously there between the lines.

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.

With the Washington Nine on the rise
They’re the National League’s big surprise
Cole shoulda thunk twice
Before plunking Bryce
Now the Nats have fire in their eyes

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.

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.

Came out of high school, stayed in Texas awhile
Seems he just couldn’t make it all seem worthwhile
He’s movin’ on. He’s movin’ on.
Rangers said “So long son, go enjoy the sun”
He’s Marlin gone.

Minor leagues kept trading, kept cutting him loose
Never was the engine, just a little caboose
Seven years rolled on, they just moved on.
Finally majored a run in 2000 and 1
Would they keep him on?

Another year came and another deal too,
Milwaukee got him in 2002,
He still moved on, he was there and gone.
Led the league in base steals, tried to keep it real,
But they moved him on.

Chicago was home for a few good years
Got a World Series ring, a girl with bunny ears,
He’s carryin’ on, maybe he’ll stay on.
But another year came, and another ball game,
He packed and was gone.

Up in the mountains, till 2009,
Back to bat that year in the White Sox line,
Another movin’ on, another hometown gone.
Even though he had fans, Chicago had other plans
And they let him move on.

One year with the Royals, still stealing some base,
Let him go to the Dodgers, problems slowing his pace.
Trouble movin’ on, released and on his own.
Try up North, play the West, half-a-year at best
So he’s movin’ on.

Finally landed in Philly, more like Lackawanna
Scranton doesn’t really sound like baseball nirvana.
Will he be movin’ on?  Sing that travelin’ song?
Thirteen teams, eighteen years, Hard to change your gears
And keep movin’ on.

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.

Permissible or not
There seems to be a drought
Of honesty afoot

Pitching maybe-perjury
Clemens seems for once
To be outta his league

His domineering stance
On the mound not found
Now drugs/performance

An arguance
More finger pointing it seems
As ugly truths are exhumed

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.

Check out the rest of their music and support the Isotopes by visiting http://theisotopes.bandcamp.com.