An Ode To Baseball

This started out as a post to Opus' blog entry on the glories and poetry of baseball. I've expanded it a bit since.

The batter swings -- a mighty crack!
Displayed to all -- alas, alack!
The umpire sneers, "Ye reprobate,
crack's illegal in this state!"

Abashed, the platesman grabs his crotch,
and makes adjustments in the box,
he shifts his weight and kicks his heel,
and hope's he's clothed what was revealed,

the dugout mutters of the gaffe
the outfield shares a vulgar laugh
the pitcher leans and spits a wad
the catcher lifts his eyes to God,

and in the stands the vendors blat
“Hot dogs! Cold beer! A nacho hat!”
Pick any snack from their array
For slightly less than one week’s pay,

And all around them sprawl the fans,
Surly, drunken to a man
Peanuts they buy, and crackerjack,
And I don’t care if they never come back,

O blissful diamond, how you shine
while overpaid announcers whine,
and beer commercials fill the air
while thousands sit at home and stare,

Where the pace is slow enough that you
Can crap and get a beer, or two
And never miss a blessed thing,
The action moves with glacial zing

A summer game, of indolence
Where viewers cheer pro insolence,
And just to give another boost
It turns out that your favorite’s juiced

Now in this baseball’s not unique
The other sports are near as weak
But how can all the teams compete
When salary cap’s called obsolete?

So if you want a game that’s slow
Where money always rules the show
Where victory is never shared
And no one knows if Bonds is square

Then baseball is the game for you
(assuming no one’s being sued
And there’s no player’s strike this year
Because 12 million’s just too dear)

The hurtling pitch, the mighty swing
The cash register’s sweet ka-ching
How could there ever hope to be,
a finer kind of poetry?