National Pastime’s All-Born-Out-of-the-USA Team

1B   Albert Pujols (Dominican Republic)
2B   Rod Carew (Panama)
SS   Luis Aparicio (Venezuela)
3B   Adrian Beltré (Dominican Republic)

LF   Minnie Miñoso (Cuba)
CF   Andruw Jones (Curaçao)
RF   Ichiro Suzuki (Japan)

C    Iván Rodríguez (Puerto Rico)

LHP   Mike Cuéllar (Cuba), Fernando Valenzuela (Mexico)
RHP   Ferguson Jenkins (Canada), Pedro Martínez (Dominican Republic)
RP   Mariano Rivera (Panama)

TWPH* Shohei Ohtani (Japan)

HOOF! Roberto Clemente (per SCOTUS, PR is a territory “belonging to” but “not a part of” the U.S.)

MGR   Bruce Bochy (France)
_______________
* Two-Way Pitching and Hitting
!   Humanitarian On and Off the Field

Dr. Oza, author of Double Play on the Red Line, was born in Bombay, grew up in Canada, and has lived more than half a century in Chicagoland and California.

1, 2, 3, 4 ... Get Out the Brooms

Take me out to grand old Wrigley,
Take me out with the crowd.

Buy me some brooms and cracker jack,
I don’t care if I never get back,

For it’s root, root, root for the Cubbies,
If they hadn’t swept four it’d be a shame.

For it’s one, two, three walkoffs,
the Reds are out,
At the old ball game.

FHABTO

Are five heads
Better than one?

The SF Giants must think so,
Supporting Tony Vitello
With four former managers—
None, like him, Joe Collegers.

Baseball big heads that Tony can poach?
Jayce Tingler is the Bench Coach;
Ron Washington is the Infield Coach;
Trusted advisors include Baker and Boche.

Moneyballers might use a decision tree
To address chance, cost and utility.
But Giants ballplayers will surely see
Lineups and rotations made by Tony V.

The Sun and the Moon

At the dawn of the U.S. space program,
Chuck Yeager derisively called the
Mercury Seven’s space heroes “spam in the can.”

But Alan Shepard, Gus Grissom and John Glenn
Proved to have The Right Stuff.
It was stuff that sustained dreamy kids like me.

In 1969, my family moved to Chicago;
On July 20, the first-place Cubs swept a doubleheader,
And old men cried when young men landed on the moon.

By 1972, the old and the young took it all for granted:
Winning seasons, good governance, lunar landings.
But the pendulum swings like Cape Canaveral’s weather.

The Cubs grew old and began losing again;
Nixon stayed corrupt, presaging another warmongering despot;
And NASA’s budget was cut, grounding Apollo’s “giant leap for mankind.”

The other day Artemis II left earth’s orbit.
The rocket, launched like a ball off of a burning bat,
Blasted off from the Kennedy Space Center Launch Pad.

The morning opened with a wall of rain;
But before liftoff, the cumulus cloud cover revealed
Sunshine that reminded me of Ernie’s smile.

Ernie Banks, that is.
Brother Ernie, whose smile defeated the rain.
Mr. Cub Ernie, of “Let’s play II” fame.

Artemis’ astronauts—in Mercury’s shadow—
Took that slingshot ride of fire to the moon.
The moonshadow reminded me of Billy.

Billy Williams, that is.
Sweet swinging Billy, the moon to Ernie’s sun.
Ironman Billy, of “Let’s play 1,117” fame.

Doubling Up on the Peace Train

(In appreciation of Yusuf / Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train”)

Now I’ve been happy lately
Thinkin’ how Opening Day has come
And I believe it could be
Leather and wood has begun

Oh, I’ve been smilin’ lately
Dreaming about MLB as one
And I believe it could be
Someday it’s going to come

‘Cause out on the infield’s edge
There rides a double play
Oh, double play, take this pitcher
Come take him home again

Now I’ve been smiling lately
Thinkin’ about the season to come
And I believe it could be
The national pastime has begun

Oh, double play soundin’ louder
Glide on the double play
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
From short to second to first

Yes, double play holy roller
Everyone, jump up on the double play
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
Come on the double play

Hit those bags together
From Tinker to Evers to Chance
Because it’s getting nearer
It soon will be with you

Now come and join the playin’
Opening Day’s not far from you
And it’s gettin’ nearer
Soon it will all be true

Oh, double play soundin’ louder
Glide on the double play
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
Come on let’s play as one

The only bombs I care to see are Cubbie
Homers on Sheffield or Waveland Avenue

Now I’ve been cryin’ lately
Thinkin’ about the world as it is
Why must we go on hating?
Why can’t we live in bliss?

‘Cause out on the edge of darkness
There rides a peace train
Oh, peace train, take this country
Come take me home again

Oh, peace train soundin’ louder
Glide on the peace train
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
Come on the peace train

Yes, peace train holy roller
Everyone, jump up on the peace train
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
(Come on, come on, come on)

Yeah, come on, peace train
Hey, yes, it’s the peace train
Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah
Come on the peace train, oh, peace train

Ooh-ah, ee-ah, ooh-ah….

¡Campeones!

Venezuela touches the sky
in the World Baseball Classic.
Eugenio drove in the run that broke the tie,
Making “USA-USA-USA” sick.

I love my country,
And I love baseball.
But jingoism tries me;
Hubris precedes the fall.

While I’m all for red-white-and-blue,
Dreams and grit make the world flat.
Others take pride in their colors, too;
Respecting those flags is classically phat.

Champions!

Butterfly Ironman WW

(RIP Wilbur Wood, 1941-2026)

In 1973, Double W
Started both games
Of a double header

Against the Yanks on that day,
Wilbur threw few flames,
Relying on his knuckler

Pitching for the White Sox,
Wood didn’t have claims
Over kids like me, a Northsider

But I did try to emulate him:
Throwing his pitch in stickball games;
Fooling batters with a butterfly floater

That same year, he won 24, lost 20;
WW, pitching all those frames,
Was an amazing workloader

Tune-ups and Alignments

I drove a Toyota Corona
For some 349,000 miles.

Tune-ups and alignments
Gave me decades of smiles.

Last season, Crow-Armstrong
Had his second-half trial.

Before the All-Star game,
Petey was playing with style.

Perhaps hoping for an MVP,
He strained. . . maybe piles?

This spring, PCA is
Aligning films and files.

With help from coaches and vets,
And maybe fans in the aisles,

The Cubs’ slugger might be
Tuned up for glorious miles.

Rainbows

RIP, Reverend Jesse Jackson, 1941-2026

A rainbow of pitches

His coalition
Might have included a
Wide, sweeping curveball

A rainbow of quotes

Aye, Jesse Jackson’s
Poetic flourish remains
On the playing field

A rainbow of people

Like ballplayers from
Across baseball’s universe,
We’re a rainbow

A rainbow of states

“America is
Not a blanket woven from one thread,
One color, one cloth.”

There’s No Place Like Home

First come the pitchers and catchers,
Then the infielders and outfielders.
Ballplayers exchange gardening gear and evening wingtips
For oiled fielding gloves and sharpened metal cleats.

Reversing Dorothy’s migration in The Wizard of Oz,
They click their heels three times,
Leaving home for Spring Training’s cause.
They dream of America’s welcoming climes.

First come the Koreans and Venezuelans,
Then the Japanese and Puerto Ricans.
They’re stopped at patrolled borders,
Denied re-entry by thuggish hoarders.

But don’t you think politics spoils all the fun?
We’re all rooting for the home team in Arizona’s desert.
How about we just play ball in the Florida sun?
Baseball’s a balm for our divided country’s tragic hurt.