[image]
[image]

Two for Ron Santo and the Hall of Fame

By Stuart Shea

The Hall of Fame’s honor and riches
Ron Santo deserved without pitches.
.      But denied for too long
.      Was the man’s well-earned song
By an old bunch of sons of bitches.

.

by Cary Donham

Ron’s a hero to folks diabetic
‘Cause on the field he was super-kinetic
.      Whether diving for balls
.      Or arguing calls
Or clicking his heels so aesthetic


Published in Chicago Cubs, Chicago Cubs, History, Limerick, Players, Scandals, Stu Shea, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments

Requiem for Sam Henry

by Becky Binks

Late autumn brings damp and rain;
The baseball season is over again.
The Redbirds were soaring;
Their fans were roaring.
And Texas went home empty-handed.

The holidays and new year’s come,
Bringing dreams of series rings to everyone.
The hot stoves start burning,
With free agent yearning,
And revulse at the salaries commanded.

Spring brings tulips and green grass.
Training and opening day are here at last.
Northern fans bundle for the game,
Southern weather is a lot more tame.
And all hope to catch a foul single-handed.

The late Samuel Henry Donham (a college and semi-pro first baseman whose career ended in injury, and later a junior high baseball coach) instilled a love of baseball in his family, including his daughter-in-law Becky. She is a longtime Cubs fan whose faith is wavering.


Published in Fans, Lyric, St. Louis Cardinals, Texas Rangers, The Game Itself, Youth | Link to this poem | 2 Comments

Yeshiva Blues

by Sid Yiddish

At bat was the great Solomon Mitzvah
A clutch-hitting Jew from South Boston’s Yeshiva Finstah
He smashed the ball hard,
Straight out of the yard
But it bounced back and wounded his kishkah.


Published in Limerick, Players, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments

The Venezuelan League

by Hilary Barta, assisted by Sid Yiddish

In the winter they swarm to Caracas
Where the fans, true to form, shake maracas
.      Down there all the players
.      Don’t wear many layers
As the sun keeps them warm in the tuchas.


Published in Ballparks, Fans, Limerick, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | 18 Comments

Matty Alou, The Poem

By Hart Seely

Roy White, you did all right.
Jim Ray Hart, you played your part.
Willie Mays, those were the days!
Matty Alou, is it really true?

Duke Sims, you climbed on limbs.
Sparky Lyle, you made us smile.
Horace Clarke, you jumped the shark.
Matty Alou, we must bid adieu?

Harvey Kuenn, you made the scene.
Juan Marichal, you gave ‘em hell.
Steve Blass, let’s raise a glass!
Matty Alou, we’ll remember you.

Hart Seely’s new book, The Juju Rules: Or How to Win Ballgames From Your Couch, will be published by Houghton Mifflin in time for Opening Day 2012.  You can pre-order it from Amazon at this link.


Published in History, New York Yankees, Oakland Athletics, Pittsburgh Pirates, Players, Pure doggerel, San Diego Padres, San Francisco Giants, St. Louis Cardinals | Link to this poem | 1 Comment

The Venezuelan League

Matty Alou, The Poem

For Sale

Glowering at Bowering

[image][image] [image] [image] [image]
[image] [image]
[image]
[image]
Copyright 2007 Bardball.


You are viewing a mobilized version of this site...
View original page here

Mobilized by Mowser Mowser