Tags
Baseball, Baseball Gods, Giants, pirates, pittsburgh, wildcard
Today, on the Book Face, Chapter 1, Day 09/28/14, it was written, by scribe Amy Williams, that the Baseball Gods Are Real. I know some of you non-believers out there have reasons to be skeptical despite Jeter’s walk-off win on his last game in pinstripes. Despite the retiring Paulie Konerko being given his 2005 World Series grand slam ball by the fan that caught it- and that fan went on to catch Konerko’s foul ball in the very same game that night.
You want a classic miracle? What about Babe Ruth promising a sick boy a home run and delivering? And there are million more. Just google BASEBALL GODS GRANT WISH. So now, with devout humility, I offer this humble prayer to the Gods of Baseball, wherever their condo is. And you KNOW they have a kickass condo.
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Ye Gods of Baseball, first off, forgive me for striking out in my last at-bat in Little League and disappointing my teammates and imaginary fans. Sure feels good to finally get that one off my chest. I come to you now for a favor. As you know, I usually ask nothing, but blindly accept the cruel and beautiful fates you offer on a daily basis 162 days per year.
But I must confess that I every-so-sincerely do want to go to Pittsburg with the divine frequent flyer miles I have accrued from much necessary travel and from unnecessary Amazon.com purchases. However, to see my beloved Giants play in Pittsburg on Wednesday around 7:10, I sure could use the following before the hotel prices go up: I need the Pirates to lose today. I don’t want them to feel too much pain- so don’t make it gory, just a simple one-run loss will do. I’m not greedy- thanks to you, oh mighty Baseball Gods for you have made it so the Pirates have to use their best starting pitcher TODAY- I thank you for that. For now, he won’t be able to pitch on Wednesday, the Wild Card game in question. Don’t think I don’t see what you did there.
That actually will do it. If that is SIMPLY TOO MUCH, just let the Cards beats the D-backs. Again, one or two runs is plenty. No grand slam heroics. Save that for Wednesday. Say, for Madbum. It’s been weeks since he’s hit one. Because, as you know dear and very real Baseball Gods, If the Cards win, yes, I will get to see my first post-season Giants game AND also finally get to visit the Andy Warhol museum. If you can grant this wish, I can push the button that says: USE FREQUENT FLYER MILES FOR TYS>NEWARK>PITT.
Sure, I could have gone through Chicago saving me two hours, but the NON-BASEBALL Gods have made a big mess up there at O’Hare. OK, that’s it for now. Since I have your attention, I would ask you to lower beer prices at PNC park by one or two dollars, but that’s piling on, I reckon.
A 10-dollar beer, after all, is a glorious, mysterious, scared thing.
Berm's Eye View: A baseball outsider looks out 
From America’s Favorite Baseball Poems, edited by Homer Winslow
Hazel Edith Gripp was born and lived her entire life in Moscow, Idaho. For many years, she was known as the “Poetess Laureate of Baseball.” Ode to Nicknames, part 1, was written in 1919, and part 2 in 1945. Miss Gripp died, in 1972 at the age of 104, before she completed part 3.
ODE TO NICKNAMES: PART I (1919)
By Hazel Edith Gripp
I sing of Cy and Champ and Hug
Of Sport and Dude and Shag and Tug
Of Socks and Dizzy, Huck and Spike
Of Josh and Howdy, Jiggs and Ike.
And thousands more like Sassafras
Who played this game upon the grass
They gave their hearts, did Scoops and Rip
Along with Jocko, Specs and Zip.
Some were Jumbo, Chubby, Fats
Others Slim, Lanky, Slats
Some were Tiny, Pee-Wee, Runt
Masters all of slide and bunt.
Gorgeous, Cocky, Cupid, Happy
Dapper, Honest, Handsome, Scrappy
Slow and Shufflin’, Silent, Gummy
Rebel, Crazy, Brains and Dummy.
And all the crew of Noah’s boat
Rhino, Chick, Possum, Goat
Rabbit, Bugs, Hippo, Moose
Bunny, Bull, Lion, Goose.
Mutt and Bird Dog, Kangaroo
Hoss and Bronco, Eagle too
Thrush and Reindeer, Snipe and Fox
All fauna of the batter’s box.
Woody, Cactus, Cotton, Limb
Tornado Jake, Grunting Jim
Circus Solly, Shoeless Joe
Smokey, Dusty, Ee-yah, Whoa.
A Cowboy, Sheriff, Scout and Chief
A Sleuth and Judge (but not a Thief)
A Fiddler, Wizard, Giant Killer
Parson, Deacon, Schoolboy Miller.
Windy, Gabby, Noisy Fred
Blacky, Whitey, Pinky, Red
More Leftys than the stars above
But ne’er a Righty, ne’er a Love.
I sing of Hack and Rough and Bash
Speed and Hummer, Flame and Flash
Of Stump and Iron, Rocks and Brick
Of Ace and Duke and Bud and Slick.
Snooze and Dreamy, Shoddy, Rags
Buttons, Tacks, Hooks and Snags
Baldy, Curly, Frosty, Cozy
Muck and Diamond, Desperate, Rosy.
Frenchy, Irish, Swede, Ceylon
Peaceful Valley, Klondike John
Tex and Dixie, Broadway Boone
Finn and Turkey, Dutch and Moon.
There’s food enough for everyone
Pepper, Cheese, Noodles, Bun
Doughnut, Pie, Lollypop
Buffalo with Crab on top.
The Georgia Peach, Tabasco Kid
Remember now the feats they did
Remember them as King and Queenie
Greasy, Cracker, String and Beanie.
Big and Bad, Wild and Tuffy
Rube and Country, Scatter, Stuffy
Sunny, Twilight, Bad News, Lucky
Shiny, Rusty, Dolly, Ducky.
There’s War and Sarge and Bullet Jack
A Soldier, Sailor (as yet no WAC)
A Colonel, Shotgun, Cannonball
A Battleship and Admiral.
Sis and Mary, Topsy, Molly
Ginger, Penny, Flossie, Polly
Toots and Kitten, Twink and Tillie
Candy, Sugar, Dots and Sillie.
And flocks and flocks and flocks and flocks
Of Docs and Docs and Docs and Docs
But only one Mysterious
And only one poor Gloomy Gus.