Red Sox in Meter and Verse | Troy O'Leary's Cow

Several days ago, our friend Lilwound tried his seasoned bloghand on a little poetry ("Inconsistent Ramblings" indeed). The noble attempt met mostly with a sitewide paralysis of middling view statistics, confused commentary, and a fair amount of self-reproach. Only here was the "outside the batter's box" effort applauded. And now, we the editors at TO'LC get Lilwound's back.

Hold on. Don't click away so fast. Give it a chance. We've selected as our subject (wait for it) ... The Boston Red Sox. "All literary men are Red Sox fans," John Cheever once (semi-) famously said. TO'LC can only conclude that "all" means poets, too.

The format we have chosen for this experiment is the limerick. Perhaps this is because the most famous protagonist in limerick history is that naughty "man from Nantucket," who, based on geography alone, was obviously a Red Sox fan. Or maybe it's just because "limerick" kinda sounds like "Camerik." You decide. Here goes.

=============================

Hope springs inside Red Sox Nation

Quite strong looks the starting rotation

But no closer's touted

The bullpen's as crowded

As post-game outside Kenmore Station.

=============================

Mighty Casey, the loser, struck out

All Mudville could do was just pout

But Beantown was happy

‘Cause they had Big Papi

Come clutch-time they'd shout then he'd clout.

=============================

For children most hire a nanny

But in Fenway things are quite uncanny

The little boy cries

Sox brass then advise

We just must let Manny be Manny.

=============================

Josh Beckett was one stubborn mister

Declared, "I just won't pop a blister."

Threw only his gas

The Yanks waxed his ass

Even called out his girlfriend and dissed her.

==============================

Rice, Pedro, Fisk, Doerr, Mirabelli

Yaz, Williams, Pesky, Petrocelli

Lowell, Schilling, DiNardo

Hipolito Pichardo

Carl Beane, Mooney, Rowe, Ballgirl Kelly.

==============================

His gut was a big ball of Play-doh

Chaw jutting big like a tomato

El Tiante would pitch

His glove he would twitch

Then twist himself like a tornado.

==============================

And, you knew it was coming ...

The Curse of Bambino still pays

Its author in so many ways

Even made it to cable

But for a better Sox fable

Please go buy The Curse of Carl Mays.

==============================

The off-season is really endless, isn't it? Crikey, how much longer until pitchers and catchers ...

UPDATE: The "Man from Nantucket" has been lighting up the switchboard at TO'LC, so to avoid legal troubles, the editorial board has chosen to appease him:

There once was a man from Nantucket

His role model was Kirby Puckett

Like a goalie in hockey

He was short and stocky

And hit with his foot in the bucket.

================================

UPDATE II: There is a website devoted to Red Sox haiku, here. Haiku blows chunks compared to the limerick, but we're all kindred spirits nonetheless.

Comments (1) Add A Comment

January 29, 2007 03:32 AM ET

Report Abuse | QUOTE

snap snap snap snap

Thank you sir. perhaps one of these days I will spend more than three minutes on a poem.

Oh and just a side note, my poem was dedicated to Boston's own Tim Wakefield. Cheers!

and of course: BEARS!