by Stu Shea
Gallardo and Bazardo and Pichardo and DiNardo.
Baseball names are the funniest words,
Spoken loudly in public context.
You never know what’s next—
The announcer may yell, “Uggla, deep to left!”
Which only makes sense if you know the game.
What, indeed, is in a name?
Someone named “Pujols” can feel no shame…
In fact, he’s a hero instead of a zero.
Prince Fielder can’t field,
And Lackey won’t yield,
Webb catches hitters, and Young’s getting old,
Holliday’s happy, but the Giants can’t Winn,
Corey’s got Hart and J.J. is Hardy,
Does Ryan need Church to wash away sin?
Published in Lyric, Players, Stu Shea | Link to this poem | No Comments