Archive for the Fans Category

I’m Over You Today

Posted in Baseball, Dodgers, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry with tags , , , , , on 15 August, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

You asked to leave the ballclub
So they traded you away.
I thought my heart was broken
But I’m over you today.

The guy they got to take your place
Can field as well as you,
And I can’t help but notice
That he’s hitting better, too.

The whole team’s playing baseball now
The way it should be played
All in all, I’m really glad
They dealt you in that trade.


This is about no particular player. It’s actually about how fans deal with having their favorite player(s) traded. Initially there’s some bad feelings but when the new guy does well, the love for the team overrides the love for the departed player. Especially guys who asked to be dealt. I heard someone on our local sports radio show say that “good play erases bad feelings” and that is very true.

Most fans of teams love the team more than any individual player. Which makes sense as players age and are replaced by the next generation. My father’s Dodgers aren’t the same team as is on the field now. Though if he were still alive, he’d root for them.

Let Me Out

Posted in Astros, Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Pitching, Poetry, Trade with tags , , , , , , , , on 22 May, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

It’s not that I don’t love this team
or that I want more bucks…
I don’t get any run support
because the hitting sucks.

Each time I’d pitch six innings
and let up three or less…
But quality’s not good enough
for me to have success.

I want to have a chance to win
on nights that I excel…
And so I think it’s time for me
to bid this team farewell.

I know the Bros will miss me…
and other fans will too…
But when my best’s not good enough,
there’s nothing left to do.


Roy Oswalt has always been an Astro. It’s difficult to wrap your mind around the idea that he would ever want to leave. Astros owner Drayton McLane bought him a bulldozer for winning a crucial post-season game against the Astros division rivals, the St. Louis Cardinals.

But last year the most quality starts that a pitcher lost was six. Roy hit that mark here in May. The Astros scored a total of four runs for him in those six games.

While I was researching this, I saw an interesting statistic. Roy’s BAA (batting average against — what opponents as an aggregate are hitting against him) is .233 and his average as a hitter is .231 — almost the same.

The “Bros” in the song are the O’s Bros, a fan group that attends games where Roy pitches. They also track his strikeouts, called and swinging. Very cool people, they probably don’t remember me but I’ve hung out with them a couple times.

I am not going to BS anyone and say Roy is my favorite Astro or even my favorite Astros pitcher. But he’s important to the team and anything that escalates so horribly has got to be taken seriously. This is Roy we’re talking about. I hope that however this works out, everyone will be okay.

Infield Fly

Posted in Baseball, Braves, Fans, Infield Fly, J-Mag, Mets, Parody, Poetry, Songs with tags , , , , , , , , on 30 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

This is a parody of “Blue-Tail Fly” aka “Jimmie Crack Corn”

Atlanta Braves and New York Mets
A game I never will forget
Where something really went awry
The Braves didn’t know the infield fly

Chorus:
Runners advance at their own risk
Runners advance at their own risk
Runners advance at their own risk
The batter’s always out

Pagan at second, Castillo first
Reyes popped it up, then cursed
The umpire pointed to the sky
Signaling the infield fly

Chorus

Infante got in Chipper’s way
So he couldn’t make the play
The runners ran and this is why–
The umpire called the infield fly

Chorus

Catcher threw it to first base
The batter’s out in any case
They didn’t know that–my oh my
They need to learn the infield fly

Chorus

The base coach told Pagan to go
He ran home and beat the throw
Mets scored a run, that ain’t no lie
Because they knew the infield fly

Chorus


This is, to me, mind-boggling. According to Wikipedia, the infield fly rule has been around for about 150 years (since the 1880s). I never played baseball but I know the rule. If it’s popped up on the infield and the umpire thinks it would be caught with normal effort and there’s a force at 3B/home, he invokes the rule by raising his arm. The batter is automatically out, the runners can advance as on any fly ball, at their risk.

I just find it astonishing that guys in the business of playing baseball don’t know the rule.   I’m an income tax preparer during the “tax season”  and to me that’s like being unaware of  deductions one can take on Schedule A such as charity miles driven or sales tax/state income tax.

No sound bite today; for some reason this tune plays perfectly in my head but doesn’t come out my mouth correctly.

The Fan

Posted in Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry with tags , , , , on 29 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

I come out to the stadium to see my hometown nine.
I clutch my ticket in my hand and wait my turn in line.
I need to have my baggage searched as I approach the door.
I’m good with my binoculars and book for keeping score.

They wave me to the turnstile, where I have my ticket scanned.
I stop to buy a program book at some convenient stand.
I get a hotdog, jumbo coke, and Cracker Jack to eat.
The usher greets me warmly and then shows me to my seat.

I see opponents’ practice wind up on field below.
Our hitters had their turn as well, a little while ago.
A groundskeeper is laying down the chalk lines on the field.
Another rolls the tarp up where the mound had been concealed.

And now here comes some businessman to throw out the first pitch.
I’ve never heard of him before, but he looks awfully rich.
A local high school choir starts to sing our nation’s song.
I stand up and remove my cap, some others sing along.

The PA speaker loudly calls the lineups for the game.
I open up my score-book and I write down every name.
Our players take the field and await the umpire’s call.
At last he points out toward the mound and bellows out, “Play ball!”

I’m looking at the hitter and then suddenly I see
A hard-hit foul off the bat and heading straight for me
I drop my pen and score-book and I call out really loud.
Then nonchalantly make the catch, and show off to the crowd

I watch the game progressing, every inning every out.
Each stolen base, each strike three called, each mighty homerun clout.
Even if we’re losing, there is still so much to see.
I stay until the final frame, the team can count on me.

Sometimes they finish early, although usually it’s late.
And when they’re through I grab my stuff and head down toward the gate
I’m joyful when we win but when we lose, I feel despair.
Though, either way, I have to say I’m happy I was there.


This is also from the book, but I attended the game last night and I wanted to share this. Also, my friend Bob wanted to read it.

I have never caught a foul ball, but I have seen guys do it just like I describe. I took this to my writer’s group they said it needed something to tie me to the game and rather than write about a specific game or score, I put in the catch.

All-Star Balloting

Posted in Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry with tags , , , , , on 20 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

I’ll go out to the ballpark and I’ll punch the paper card.
I think my guy is better, though the stat-geeks disagree.
He’s got a lot of hustle and he’s working really hard;
I want him in the spotlight so that everyone can see.

Why should I cast a ballot if it doesn’t really count?
The guys who vote online can cast two dozen votes a day
(They actually get twenty-five per e-mail account).
On paper I cannot keep up–there really is no way.

I have to vote my conscience as a knowledgeable fan.
The odds are stacked against me and I know it will be tough.
But even so I feel that I must do the best I can
To let the world know that I believe he’s good enough.


I think it’s unfair to let fans vote for the MLB all-stars online as it’s currently done. I don’t object to the idea of voting online, but 25 ballots/day is a lot. And it seems to be tied to your e-mail address so you could theoretically vote hundreds of times every day.

That’s just wrong.

It doesn’t help any that voting online started today, April 20 and runs through July 1, but paper balloting doesn’t begin until Saturday, the 24th and it only runs through June 5.

14 Lines

Posted in Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry, Sonnet with tags , , , , , , , on 19 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

They take two minutes when we take the field,
And when we come back to the dugout, too.
Yet, you don’t wish to have that fact revealed
Because of what the fans might think of you.

The sponsors want that time to sell their stuff,
It’s how the game is funded, we all know.
You told the public we’re not fast enough,
And said the “pace of game” is much too slow.

There is no member of the pitching staff
Who needs that long to take his warmup throws.
And sometimes, it’s two minutes and a half,
You could give them more tosses, I suppose.

I think you should be honest with the fans
Instead of wasting time on pacing plans.


DISCLAIMER: This is based on Morgan Ensberg’s latest blog about Bud Selig and “pace of game”. The ideas are his, the words are mine and if there’s any mistake in my poetic translation, charge me with the error.

The title comes from the fact that Morgan wore #14 and they’re his lines, while this is also an English sonnet and 14 lines long.  This is in addition to any baseball interpretation one might wish to put on it.

This whole idea of speeding up the game seems to me to be a way of shrinking the time between commercials. That’s just me. Pitchers should be allowed to regroup and batters to step out and prepare for the pitch. I’ve never played baseball but there are many situations where I want a moment to compose myself before stepping up and doing what was necessary.

Now, I have to have another disclaimer: I don’t like Bud Selig. I don’t like interleague play. I think he should have gotten off the schneid about PEDs and a couple other things.

But baseball is not boring if you watch it right.

I Used to…

Posted in Astros, Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry with tags , , , , , on 13 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

I used to know each player’s name, the number on his back.
I used to memorize their stats, but, somehow, I’ve lost track.
I used to come out to the park to watch the home team play.
I used to have a favorite but they traded him away.
I used to buy their merchandise because they were the best.
I used to watch the standings to keep tabs on all the rest.
I used to count the days each year until the season’s start.
I used to be a die-hard fan–until they broke my heart.


The first two lines refer to the fact I used to be able to  name everyone on the Astros 40-man roster, plus the DL. But Monday,  I’m listening to a game with a buddy and he asks me, “Who’s this Lopez guy?” And I didn’t know. I thought about it and I only knew a handful of name/number pairings.

I am not a “casual fan” in the usual sense of the word–I have the team logo tattooed on my left ankle. But for awhile I felt as if I’d become one of those people who were allegedly die-hard fans of their teams but who couldn’t name any of the players.   The sort of fans I hate.

Turns out I have an excuse–most of the guys whose names I don’t know are new-to-the-Astros. And I’m learning them. Or I knew them but I forgot.

The Astros have not broken my heart and I have not forsaken them. The poem just needed an ending and a resolution of some sort and that’s what I came up with.  And this is just the sort of thing that those die-hard fans that I hate would do.  Jump on the bandwagon of some team with a better record.

Wait Till Next Year

Posted in Astros, Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry with tags , , , , on 6 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

A little explanation first — this is a “brain box” poem where there were sixteen words, of which you needed to use at least five.  I’ve underlined the words.


The game of baseball comes alive each spring,
Each team expecting victory come fall.
Each player hoping for the Series ring
That lets the world know he’s won it all.

My hometown nine, whose names I’ve memorized
Whose stats are uppermost in heart and head
Did, one morning, suddenly surprise
By trailing the division they once led.

Kicked around by lesser teams than they.
I do not know the reason for their flaws.
The media consensus seems to say
That casual mistakes were the main cause.

I’d like to say I didn’t have a clue–
But I attended every last home game.
The bloggers at their keyboards said they knew.
(Their archives lend some credence to that claim).

It still remains uncertain who will wear
The radiance of the World Series crown.
I know the team I root for won’t be there,
And every day, they’re slipping further down.

It’s with exquisite care they broke my heart.
Though honestly, I wasn’t unaware.
As game by game they slowly came apart,
My overflowing joy became despair.

You’ll find this dual existence–joy and grief–
Enveloped in the world of my team.
And as I pen this dirge upon this leaf.
I hold to next year’s season in my dream.


This may not be the best or brightest way to use those sixteen words but there are people who keep telling me the Astros don’t have a chance.  And there have been years like that, where things look good in April but come August ugliness abounds.

Remember though I didn’t write this because I think our attitude should be focused on next year–no, it’s about using sixteen words and talking baseball.   It was the word “dirge” that started me.  I wasn’t even going to use all sixteen words–I was going to stop when I reached the end of the poem.  But I kept the screen open to that box of words and they kept sneaking in.

The first stanza was written last and I started somewhere in the middle and grew in both directions.

Opening Day 2010-Style

Posted in Astros, Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Opening Day, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on 6 April, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

The bunting’s been draped,
Team banners are hung.
The jets have flown over,
The anthem was sung.

Each player announced
By his number and name.
All men on the roster
Are honored this game.

The home uniforms
Are still white and pristine,
The sky a deep blue
And the field a bright green.

They take to that field,
they’re ready to play
The season’s beginning
It’s opening day.


Tuesday and Wednesday in Texas, every fifth grader is spending their day completing the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills, or TAKS.  As a parent of a fifth-grader whom I am hoping will become a sixth-grader, I could not in conscience do the street fair and the ballgame.  This is partly due to religious reasons — if the boys have to play all nine innings, then by golly, the least I can do is keep my butt in the seat till the last out.

So, instead, my husband is taking the boy to the game on the 10th.  This is the big throwback game against the Phillies;  I won’t be there, I have more important places to be.

How is that remotely possible?  April is National Poetry Month and so Katy Budget Books is having a special celebration.  I’m going to be there reading and signing books.   I made the commitment to be there long before the Astros announced the promotional day.

For my son, the highlight of opening day is seeing the players lined up on the field and each being called by name, number, and position.  His favorite is El Caballo, Carlos Lee, so it’s not like he never sees him introduced in the starting lineup.   I like that part too.  I remember the year my favorite first made it onto the roster.

So here’s a little ditty about Opening Day.

Letter to Jane Random Fan

Posted in Baseball, Fans, J-Mag, Poetry on 28 March, 2010 by Baseball Poetess

I have never been famous for anything. I’ve done some remarkable things in my life, but not anything that many other people haven’t done.

But that doesn’t stop me from wondering about what it would be like to be famous. Not just the good parts, but the bad parts, too.

Like signing my autograph. I remember the first autograph I signed. It was just a piece of paper with one of my poems on it and it was for one of the other members of our monthly poetry group that meets at Katy Budget Books (yes they’re on the internet–support your brick and mortar stores). The first book I signed was to my 11-year old son. But then came the night I dropped off a consignment at Katy Budget Books and it was suggested I sign them all. I did, but that led me to wonder about athletes and others signing autographs and how tedious it could become.

And that led me to fan mail. What must it be like to get letters from thousands of people who think they’re in love with you? Of course, you have a form letter you can send out, maybe with a “signed” card that is actually printed. Or maybe you do autograph hundreds at a time. Either way, I bet it’s annoying and I imagine this is the sort of letter you may want to send to these fans.

•  •  •

Dear Fan

Jane Random Fan, I’d like to thank you for your recent note.
Although I didn’t read it all, I’m happy that you wrote.
Because of the large quantity or letters in my queue,
I cannot send a personal reply direct to you.
You tell me you’re in love with me (the media’s to blame)
You’re dazzled by my image, and my manufactured fame
I autographed my picture once; it’s hanging on your wall.
I’ve signed them by the thousands and I can’t recall them  all.
You mention that I drew a heart around your name and mine
I don’t know how to tell you this–I do that all the time.
Although I am your fantasy, I’m really just a man
I only wrote this poem because you are my biggest fan.

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