If you weren’t fascinated by middle relief yesterday, you were more than enrolled in the course last night. Drafted militarily by force is more like it.The performance, if you want to call it that, turned in by Manny D and Ramon I bemoan Ramirez lost us the game and a chance for a tie with the first place Yankees. Let’s not call it a performance. How about . . .circus? (We poets are always revising.) Did you know that Ramon had a 2.64 ERA over 71 games for KC? Last year, he worked a 2.84 It’s the year before that which is disconcerting: 8.31 for Colorado, a number that appears throughout his career.
I don’t often point at one player, but today I am disgusted by the quicksand pit that our bullpen can be on nights when our starter gives up 3 runs. Ok, so Dice was Dicey. But our offense, even while looking weak against a more stud-like Garza(I hate that misshapen thing on his chin), we pushed 4 runs onto the board. Not to mention the follies inside the visitor’s bullpen. What was that? It has voodoo written all over it. At the very least, it was the equivalent of graffiti. Not that I don’t like graffiti sometimes, like good colors on an abandoned building. But not in the bullpen at Fenway.
Which brings me to a question I had yesterday and almost wrote in yesterday’s entry. What happened to our bullpen band? You heard Jerry and Bob ask about it last night(voodoo or esp from Boston to Jersey??). So I ask it more officially here: WHERE IS THE BULLPEN BAND?? Do they need instruments? A few triangles? Drumsticks? Metal pipes? I can supply some. My twin brother, a percussionist, might have some recommendations for us.
You know who, with drumsticks at a great parade. Journal photo by Bill Murphy
Back to baseball. And poetry. At 3:30 or so, we were treated to Dustin on his knees taking ground balls. How’s that for beautiful contrast to Agent Double Hurt Ellsbury? As suggested by Professor Abraham, this thing is getting truly mysterious. I am starting to get images of some secret cave in the southwest, with doctors surrounding Jacoby. Maybe it’s more like Neo in The Matrix with all those needles and Morpheus saying, “Rest, you are going to need it.”
The poet John Berryman, also of Boston fame(even though the term famous poet is an oxymoron), told his students that they had to literally get on their knees to pray to write good poems. “Sing in me oh muse” is how The Odyssey begins. So there’s Dustin on his knees as we pray for him and for divine intervention in the bullpen.
In yesterday’s New York Times, there was an excellent article about the The Bard of Wimbeldon. Here it is: The Bard.
“They are big into poets, so why not?” commented Martina Narvatilova.(Hey Martina, some of us over on this side of the Atlantic are “big into poets” too.) Today the new US Poet Laureate was also named: W.S. Merwin, who is one of my favorite poets.
Using this as our model, even though you don’t have to look as smug as Mr Harvey in the Times’ photos, I announce a prize for entries received during the month of July for Red Sox verse. A minimum of six lines is required. The prize will be nice. I promise. Something Sox of course.
PLEASE SEND ALL Entries either in comments or to my email: email@example.com
Looking forward to your work!