No, no, go not to Boston, nor lose that twist
glove waggling, spinning, confusing the swine;
Nor allow thy stats to suffer away from Wrigley mist,
By dollar signs, and contract time;
Make not your bed of 75% cotton, 25% linen, all green,
Nor let the batter assuage his fears.
Your fancy whimsy Waggle, and split finger change,
Are all a function of some forgotten dream;
For age comes to all pitchers, and not too drowsily —
To drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

I don’t understand why this is getting so much news coverage.

This has been Baseball Players Twerking.

Dave Kingman, a small-town
bowling alley with
wood paneling petrified
into real wood
food service staple colors
magenta and teal
coalesced into a single ashen hue
the treble of hair metal
whispered overhead
through tinny speakers

Dave Kingman, a rattle of knocked-down
bowling pin Budweisers
blurry group photographs all
duckfaces and teeth
eyeshadow twinkling like dying stars
twittering with bird-laughter
from the backs of rhinos
casting out slow drunken mute
furtive looks
eyes hunting for eyes

Dave Kingman, a plain of stained
colorless carpet
the urine-soaked restroom tile
the empty paper towel dispenser
hands wiped on jeans
and learning the chick with the tube top
 left ten minutes ago
the branches whithering
tomorrow already pressing
at the temples

Dave Kingman, a single pull-tab
at the end of the night
torn mechanically
liberty bell
liberty bell

1. “Sam” as in Jeff’s brother’s first name. “Ard” as in the last three letters of “yard,” since he set an all-time record for reception yards playing football at Notre Dame. “Zija” as in the name of some weird “miracle tea” that the Internet says is a marketing scam and that one Amazon reviewer says gave her diarrhea.

2. “Samar” as in a province in the Philippines whose capital is Catbalogan City. “DZI” as in the three-letter code for Codazzi Airport in Colombia, so small there does not even appear to be a Cinnabon. “Ja” as in the unit of measurement of length in Korea equal to approximately 30.3 cm.

3. “SA” as in Sexaholics Anonymous. “Mardz” as in a woman in Macedonia renting out her apartment on Airbnb. (Just $46/night!) “IJA” as in the International Jugglers Association.

4. “Sama” as in the Society of American Mosaic Artists. “RD” as in Rainbow Dash, a character in the TV Show “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” “Zij” as in the Islamic astronomical books. “A” as in America, where Samardzija was born.

5. “S” as in “starting pitcher.” “Amardzija” as in the last 9 letters of Jeff Samardzija’s name.

Now you will never forget how to spell Samardzija. Or maybe you will. Sorry.

Water finds its level, or so they say. And as human beings are roughly 70 percent water, simple logic dictates that 70 percent of humans will, eventually wind up exactly where they belong. The other 30 percent comprise the House Republicans in Congress, who built a shitty dam out of gerrymandering, prejudice, and bitterness and have managed to stay well above their level, and Nikola Tesla, who stayed well below (curse you, Edison!). But, for now, let’s concern ourselves with those of us who manage to wind up right where we belong. Like Jose Valverde, pitching at AAA in a hot dog jersey.

A match made in Heaven, preordained by God Itself.

Read the rest of this entry »

Not content with merely reigning as Chief Marlin, the vigorous and onomastically elusive Giancarlo Stanton has declared himself lord of the entire watery realm. Behold!

In his honor, then, a Hymn*:

HEAR, Postanton, ruler of the sea profound,
Whose liquid grasp begirts the solid ground;
Who, at the bottom of the stormy main,
Dark and deep-bosom’d, hold’st thy wat’ry reign;
Thy awful hand the brazen trident bears,
And ocean’s utmost bound, thy will reveres:
Thee I invoke, whose steeds the foam divide,
From whose dark locks the briny waters glide;
Whose voice loud founding thro’ the roaring deep,
Drives all its billows, in a raging heap;
When fiercely riding thro’ the boiling sea,
Thy hoarse command the trembling waves obey.

Behold the dark locks from whence the briny waters glide!

* With apologies to Orpheus.

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ADMINISTRATOR

In a recent depressive manifesto here at NotGraphs, you lamented that you had made too many “Photoshop-heavy” posts, Baumann.

However: unlike — for better or for worse — your handsome author-boss, you, feeling aligned with the huddled, addict readership more than the bourgeois editorship, are inclined to give the people what they want.

In a comment on that same post, NotGraphs reader “leeroy” asked, “can we get another post about chris sail?” [sic].

Baumann, it is okay that today you have decided to say, “Yes, brother leeroy, we can get another post about ‘chris sail’ — and here it is!”