From Mad Magazine. Early to mid-'70s, I think. Part of a series of poems, one for each baseball position. I wish I knew who wrote it.
The Shortstop
We marvel at the Shortstop's art.
Just see him swerve and lunge and dart.
Of course, to some, this makes no sense
Because the ball's just cleared the fence,
But in the field, the shortstop knows
That he must put on fancy shows.
How else can he make you and me
Forget he's batting .203?
|