by Paul Zimmer
Donkey, Fat Pat, Round Ron, Swish,
Big Jawn, Pig, Klu, Moose, Tons,
Big guys who torched
The air with their swings, . . .
by Floyd Skloot
The primary use I make of baseball these days is as a form of alternative medicine: its history and statistics are taken in like herbal remedies, its lore meditated on as a form of relaxation therapy, its long televised games approached as part of a natural healing process. Like a lot of natural healing, Harry Caray’s voice and patter can be extremely difficult to take, but I am convinced they do me good.
by Alan Soldofsky
The high hard one—up
and inside. The brush-back pitch
from which the batter reels out of the box.
Newcombe threw one, and Drysdale,
and Bob Gibson, who hurled smoke . . .
by Geoff Schmidt
Unless I talk in my sleep, what little sleep I get these days—and my wife Rachel has given no indication of such a fact—only three people in the world knew of this, and the other two are dead. But it is a true thing I’m telling, and it was a very near brouhaha Mr. Williams had with Death, and I know it all for a fact because I’m the one that was there to stop it.
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