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It was either a photo of her or of Carlos Beltran
For some people, there is little rhyme or reason to the baseball season.
Thankfully, for the rest of us there is Bardball.com.
It’s a Web site that’s a delight.
Bardball offers up poetry and rhyme
And a wonderful way to pass the time.
The site proclaims: ”Reviving the art of baseball doggerel.”
And the literate folks around here think they do it quite well.
Here are some of the latest offerings:
***
Tighten Your Beltran
By Stuart Shea
When Carlos Beltran came to the Bay,
He was supposed to hit SF’s troubles away.
Fans think his RBI count’s a disgrace,
But you can’t drive in runners
Who aren’t on base.
***
Brewer Summer
By Doug Fahrendorff
Auspicious signs
Ten games up
A month to go
September in Wisconsin
Baseball still a hot topic
Three million fans
Make the trek to Miller Park
Skeptical fans
Beginning to believe
This will be a season
To remember
Ryan, Prince, and T. Plush
On the cover of S.I.
LaRussa disconcerted
Still
The pennant
Not clinched yet
Work to do
“Gotta Go”
***
Citi Sells Out
By James Finn Garner
Huge savings now with your NY Mets!
It’s as cheap as baseball gets!
You need a slugger? Come on down
Our prices are the best in town!
Starters, bench help, closers too–
We want to make a deal with YOU!
Are we crazy to sell for less?
(Just ask Madoff: The answer’s YES!)
We need dough before Yankee stars
Hire us to wash their cars.
***
The Bookkeepers Talk Baseball
By Jim Daniels
Betsy says a friend of hers
went to high school with Kirk Gibson
and that he was stuck up even then.
Debbie says Frank is taking her
to one of those things
where they play two games in one day.
What’s it called, a double bubble?
She makes a face: I can hardly stand one game
much less two.
Jack, the burly security guard says
it’s too damn boring. Everybody
standing around picking their asses.
I sit at my desk
flipping through accounts, pulling overdrafts.
My ass squirms in padded comfort
longing for the bleacher’s hard bench.
Arnold says he likes it better
on tv. Why go to the ballpark,
he asks, and deal with the traffic
and the crowds?
Better on tv?
Get yer red hots heah!
Coke! Iiiiiiice Cooooold Coke!
Crack of bat on ball. Smell
of stale cigars and spilled beer.
Seventh inning stretch.
Cold beer in the sun.
Cold beer in the sun.
I bang my seat
to start up a rally.
***
In closing, Bardball offers a little haiku for you:
Mantle
By Stephen Jones
An Oklahoma flash
Out of “shucks” and a beer can
He swung for pleasure