White Sox in the Wash

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 —  zip.

Shouldn’t someone ring Kenny Williams’ bell?

Inform him, pray tell,

That after two years,

Even good socks can smell?

Published in Chicago White Sox, Management, Pure doggerel, Stu Shea | Link to this poem | No Comments

Leave Your Comment

Comment Form

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.