I’ve never been the
Gambling type. Now, like the Sox,
I loathe 21.
Cleveland pitchers strikeout a record 21 White Sox batters and move on to the ALCS.
Second City’s Second Class No More
Chicago used to be second to New York;
Now L.A. bling tops skyscrapers and pork.
I was my parents’ Bombay-born second son;
Family myth winks at my fictional adoption.
Thus, I’ll always embrace my Second City;
“Yes, and” improv has no room for self-pity.
2026’s uneven season for the lovable Cubbies is over.
The miracle run for the Pale Hose is my four-leaf clover.
An immigrant kid, I first lived on the North Side,
So, my love of the White Sox I was forced to hide.
Don K, Glenn, Billy, Ron, Ernie, Randy, Jim, Don Y and Fergie:
That was my line-up in 1969 when I felt so “wery” Indian-quirky.
Five years later, along with Santo as DH, to the South Side I went,
Joining Pat, Ken, Dick, Bill, Carlos, Ron, Jorge, Ed and Bucky Dent.
A quick playoff exit for Chicago’s tippy-top ballclub has taken them down.
Exorcising 300 losses, baseball’s outcasts make Chicago their town.
I liked Jorge Orta because we shared a similar sounding surname;
I threw knucklers like Wilbur Wood, dreaming of the Hall of Fame.
I pitied Ed Herrmann’s giant glove catching Wilbur’s butterfly;
I cheered on Dick Allen’s AL Home Run Championship drive.
I wondered if Dick shouldn’t have left my hometown so abruptly;
I rooted on Kelly, Henderson, Melton, May, Santo and Bucky.
For the Cubs, it’s — again — “Wait ‘til next year, grrr.”
For the Sox, it’s — the World Series — one step nearer.
As a teenager, I got to meet the legendary Mr. Bill Veeck;
I was in awe of his ashtray-cum-peg-leg, a wartime wreck.
Though Larry Doby and Bill integrated the American League,
Their heroic act of justice was always second to iconic Jackie.
While Comiskey Park was never as pastoral as Wrigley Field,
To Disco Demolition Night and gaudy shorts I did gladly yield.
Counsell’s boys can look forward to 2027’s Spring Training.
Venable’s boys will, by then, hopefully be World-Champs-reigning.
The Sox have long been like the rental car company, Avis:
“We’re No. 2. We try harder!” their fans hoop and hiss.
Why are those who come in second so often forgotten?
To not be first, to not be champ, seemingly verboten?
Though the White Sox remain second-class citizens in Chicago,
Their faithful fans include me, President Obama and Pope Leo.
Dr. Oza, author of Double Play on the Red Line, still dreams of a Red Line World Series in his lifetime.
Danger on Deck
Didn’t see them coming:
Attention-seeking italics;
Bregman’s blinding ball.
Ain’t Nothin’ So Fine as Homers One to Nine
On Aug. 31, the Cubs smacked nine homers to rout the Brewers.
I was floating on Cloud Nine.
Nine. What a beautiful number.
Maybe that’s why I’ve always been
so euphoric about baseball:
nine innings,
nine players on offense,
nine players on defense,
ninety feet between the bases.
Even home plate was originally
a nine-inch-diameter quoit.
No wonder I love this sport
from the nineteenth century.
This poem uses line breaks of prose from Dr. Oza’s debut novel, Double Play on the Red Line. Meet him on a panel hosted by The Chicago Literary Hall of Fame at Printers Row Lit Fest, 9/12/26, 3 pm.
99.8%
Baseball is replete with statistical wonders.
The Giants had been perfectly winning:
2,208 – 0 when leading by six
Or more runs entering the ninth inning.
Now this horrible team is 2,208 – 1,
After the Reds rallied with home run sticks
And stole from Oracle Park a day in the sun.
It’s not just the foul-smelling dead fish
Stinking up the San Francisco Bay.
“Wait till next year,” Giants fans wish.
How often has a ballclub been so hell bent
On losing in such a soul-crushing way?
MLB stats say it’s the opposite of 99.8%.
The bleeping Giants are baseball’s blunders.
Dreamin’ of a Chicago Red Line World Series
The “L” ride from Addison to Sox-35th is my fantasy.
The White Sox are leading the Twins for first place,
The Cubs are battling the Brew Crew in a tight race.
I’m dreamin’ of a crosstown Cubs-Sox Red Line Series.
Belmont, Fullerton, North/Clybourn stations, please!
On hump day, A-Breg hit three dinger irrationals,
Leading the Cubbies over the Ex-Expos-Nationals.
I’m dreamin’ of a crosstown Sox-Cubs Red Line Series.
Clark/Division, Chicago, Grand stations, please!
On hump day, La Piedra hurled seven scoreless innings,
Leading the White Sox over the Cinci Reds 5-Nothings.
I’m dreamin’ of a crosstown Cubs-Sox Red Line Series.
Lake, Monroe, Jackson stations, please!
Venable’s heroes on the South Side have intense energy:
Burke, Grichuk, Peters, Vargas and Munetaka Murakami.
I’m dreamin’ of a crosstown Sox-Cubs Red Line Series.
Harrison, Roosevelt, Cermak-Chinatown stations, please!
Counsell’s heroes on the North Side hope to do no wrong:
Busch, Happ, Imanaga, Kelly and Pete Crow-Armstrong.
I’m dreamin’ of a crosstown Cubs-Sox Red Line Series.
Is it too early for me to dream away my wearies?
What will it take for a 7-game Series ride on the Red Line?
Pray for Pope Leo’s blessings? Forget Leo the Lip’s 1969?
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?”