Raj Oza
"PLAY BALL!"
"PLAY BALL!"

Save

(The hypothetical baseball quotes are based on the Cubs’ real 23-3 whupping of the Padres.)

The Talmud: “To save one life is to save the world entire.”
The Cubs: “To save a game is to save a season.”

Benjamin Franklin: “A penny saved is a penny earned.”
The Cubs’ Jordan Wicks: “Hey, a blowout’s save is better than a blown save.”

Warren Buffett: “Do not save what is left after spending, but spend what is left after saving.”
The Cubs’ Dansby Swanson: “I wasn’t saving a blast after homering, but rather homering, homering, and slamming a jackpot.”

Mahatma Gandhi: “The world has enough for every man’s need, but not everyone’s greed.”
The Cubs’ Colin Rea: “Uh, guys, could you save a few of those runs for my next outing?”

Paper Tickets, Paper Dollars

I got to the front of the ticket line
and pulled out a crumpled twenty.

The cheerful young man said,
“Oh, no. Gotta use your phone.”

He sat behind a window at Wrigley Field,
Selling entrance to hapless souls like me.

I fished out my ancient device,
The kind kids now relish as dumb.

“No smart phone? You know, with apps?”
He asked, his smile a bit more patronizing.

“Can you puh-leeez take cash for a paper ticket?”
I pleaded, praying for a physical keepsake.

As he conferred with his even younger superior,
I remembered my first games at the old ballpark.

Back in the day, a surprise awaited me in the mailbox:
A Luddite’s ticket, including the stub with a rain check;

“Cubs” encircled in red v. the visiting team logo;
Seat location, and wait … the price under five bucks.

The kid disturbed my reverie. “Boss says you need a phone.
Or you can pay an extra five dollars to print a ticket.”

I sighed and added a Lincoln note to the Jackson.
He heartlessly returned the sigh. “Wrigley’s cashless.”

My tickets of yore now serve as bookmarks.
“Admit one,” they mark the passing of pages.

You too can use an old ticket as a bookmark by buying Dr. Oza’s alternative Cubs history, Double Play on the Red Line.

The Great Dansby

(With apologies to F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Great Gatsby. All italics honor Dansby Swanson’s 11-RBI day, topping Billy Williams’ nine ribbies and Ron Santo’s 10.)

“So Dansby beat on,
homers against the current,
borne back ceaselessly over life’s warning track.”

“The Mets pitcher looked around Swanson wildly,
as if the past were lurking here
in the shadow of his house, Citi Field,
just out of reach of his hand.”

“Dansby had that familiar conviction
that life was beginning over
again with the grandest of slams.”

Krukow's Pride

When did Pride Night
Occasion Pride fight?

Why do some scribe Bible verses
To hex others with their curses?

Why can’t Giants ballplayers be cool cats,
Instead of defacing rainbow baseball hats?

Mike Krukow disappointedly spat,
Asking, “Why would you do that?”

The former Cubs/Giants pitcher is now a broadcaster
Who comes up with memorable lines fast, and faster.

He coulda told the players, without missing a beat,
to sit on the bench and “Grab some pine, meat.”

Some say he shoulda ignored their ungodly blather,
Maybe only say, “Just another — ha ha ha ha — laugher!”

Here’s how Kruk did respond, without rhyme,
Throwing a high and hard one on a dime:

“I would just hope
they would understand
the demographic of San Francisco
and respect people for who they are.

“What you do to your uniform,
that has weight to it.
You can offend people.
And why would you do that?”

Baby, Comeback

Over there, past midnight on the other coast,
Long-suffering Knicks fans continued to boast:

“Greatest comeback ever! Are you kiddin’ me!
Makes you fuhgeddaboud 1973!”

Earlier in the afternoon, recalling a kid named Say Hey,
Willie Mays’ fans said 21-year-old Bryce made their day:

“Greatest comeback ever! A new Summer of Love!
Eldridge hits a walk-off granny past the Nats’ glove.”

Single or Homer?

My friend and I once coached Little League;
That was over a quarter century ago.
Now we meet at Ada’s Café for tea and cocoa.

Sometimes, when our creaky knees let us,
We bicycle past the old field to the café.
And then we talk—talk across all the bases.

Our boys are grown men now,
Leading lives of consequence, of consequences,
No longer pitching or catching.

My old friend shows me a fading photo from Wrigley Field:
Dodger great Maury Wills is in the middle—as if at second base—
Long arms around him and his kid brother—as if at third and first.

Remembering legendary Cubs announcer Jack Brickhouse,
He and I discuss the metaphysics of base hits.
I wonder, “Is a single better or a homer?”

He says, “A home run is spectacular.”
I frown. “I suppose chicks dig the long ball.”
He notices my reluctance to agree.

I ask, “Doesn’t clearing the bases end all the fun?”
He looks puzzled. “You like singles and doubles?”
I cheer up. “A single keeps the line-up moving.”

He likes that. “Singles and doubles. Keep the line moving.”
I add, “Imagine Maury at first, ready to steal second.”
He looks at my ancient two-wheeler. “Keep the line moving.”

Dr. Oza fictionalized Jack Brickhouse in his debut novel, Double Play on the Red Line.

Rollicking Subway Series

Is there anything that connects
my hometown like a Subway Series?

Game 1: Cubs Win 10-5;
North Siders feel they’ll own
The 2026 Crosstown Classic,
The Windy City Showdown

Game 2: White Sox hit five homers;
The Chicago Showdown,
The North–South Showdown,
Tilts back to the Southside

Game 3: Sox walk-off in extra innings;
South Siders claim this year’s
Crosstown Cup,
The Red Line Series

For three days, baseball connects Chicago
More than any rickety Transit Authority