Archive for the ‘Baseball Poetry Project’ category

The Hurler’s Prayer

July 25, 2018

Coach in Heaven,
Fuel my strength.
Protect my arm.
Protect my shoulder.
Protect my ulnar collateral ligament.
Allow my pitches to find their targets, with the force to move mountains.
May flyballs land in gloves.
May ground balls stay in the infield.
Help me fool the opposition.
Fuel my strength.
In Cy Young’s name,
Amen.

ER

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Return of the Right Fielder

July 10, 2018

The epicenter of the resurgence returned home as a visitor.

Odd seeing him wear the uniform of the Metropolitans.

Standing on the field where he blossomed, there are standing ovations and video tributes.

All richley deserved.

I smile at the memories, but feel sadness when he pulls out a defensive alignment card.

It’s not the same club he once played for.

It isn’t the same group that captivated the nation.

This is evolution.

This is a team in transition.

He is getting older and that means I am getting older.

So I cling to the memories and wonder if he does the same.

ER

Rock Bottom (?)

May 21, 2018

Fragile Blue Jays
lost four matches to Oakland
in painful fashion.

ER

Spring Training Haikus! A February tradition (at least in my head) since 2016

February 14, 2018

This could be the last
spring training for Donaldson
in fair Dunedin

The middle infield
is giving me great concern
due to its poor health

Pray for the finger
on Aaron Sanchez to be
blister free and safe

Joe Biagini
Should remain in the bullpen
where he’s suitable

Fifth starter auditions
shall take place in Dunedin.
Where’s Brett Anderson?

ER

There’s nothing to say about the Blue Jays’ outfield situation that hasn’t already been said. So I wrote an abstract(ish) poem instead

January 22, 2018

randalgrichukteoscarhernandezcurtisgrandersonkevinpillarzekecarerrastevepearcedaltonpompey

Shit. That outfield is crowded. 

New names
Familiar names
Free agent names
Pick your poison names

Some will lavish in the six
Others will be bound for Buffalo

Shit. That outfield is crowded.

ER


The 19-Inning Baseball Game

December 3, 2017

Six hours,
thirteen minutes,
nineteen innings.
Congratulations, baseball.
You broke me.

Patriotism was shining proudly
for the nation’s one hundred and forty-ninth birthday.
Red adorned the playing area, the uniforms and Buck Martinez’s blazer.

The umpire
was an enemy of the nation.
Casting out our very best,
as if he was the almighty lord
and the Blue Jays were Adam and Eve.

The match yielded just three runs,
including a Justin Smoak homerun,
which seemed to embrace suspended animation as it hung in the stale, closed-roof air.
It took will power and encouragement just for the ball to scrape over the leftfield wall.

Marching on
hour after hour, inning after inning.
Some have chosen to leave.

Evening plans be damned!
This is an experience you want to experience.
This might be your only chance to participate in a 14th inning stretch.

Hunger and exhaustion creep around you loudly;
and you wonder if Ryan Goins is actually warming up in the bullpen
or if it is just a hallucination.

It wasn’t.

The infielder threw a scoreless inning and landed on the disabled list for his efforts.
Darwin Barney was not as lucky,
surrendering the winning homerun.

19 innings.
Two runs for the opponents.
One solitary run for the home side.
And I was angry.

Angry at the result.
Angry at the ego-driven umpire.
Angry at the team.

I battled hunger and exhaustion for the shitty prize of a
disappointing defeat.

Pardon me
as I leave engrossed
in a bitter mood.

ER

Summing up the 2017 Blue Jays with a haiku poem I wrote at 4am

October 1, 2017

Things did not go well
because there were plenty of
inconsistencies

ER



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