The Pecan Park Eagle

Bruiser Bob Bobinski was a basher – tough as Texas clay,

He loved to crush that little ball – and all who came to play,

A game of base against him – and his club down Beeville way.

 

They called themselves the Bees, you see,

For the sting they brought – to bruising,

They were the killer kind, – in glee – no harbor there for losing,

 

They kept the mainsail tight and hard – til victory was cruising.

 

Bobinski had a facile mind – as slugging fiend and mentor,

To all the younger swarming Bees – he was their godly sender,

And obstacles were little more – than fire’s fast building tinder. 

 

But then one day – from Goliad – a man came forth with offers,

A chance to swiftly fill or drain – their proudly building coffers,

A way to put to sleep – at last – those noisy neighbor scoffers.

 

Bruiser Bob just winked and glowed – he found it quite amusing

 

But Bruiser Bob did listen – to the story of this madman,

This smiling Jack from Goliad – was truly quite the sad man,

And now he offered lunacy – in ways that coaxed, “Eh Gad, Man!”

 

It seems that several weeks ago – old Jack had nursed a beanstalk,

That quickly climbed 2,ooo feet – as Goliad’s only street talk,

But growing as it did – one day – its future took a moonwalk,

 

And vanished all the way – up there – no need for false excusing.

 

Shortly after all seemed done,

Here came the absolute real fun,

A giant shinned his way to earth,

And boomed down hard his weighty girth.

 

And he “HO HO Hoed” his way from there,

To the ball field out – at the county fair.

At 20 feet tall – with a great big stick,

The giant joined the Goliad Hicks.

 

And quickly – fast launching – six balls – to swift flight,

He pummeled the far off Gulf – and long into the night,

As it took just that long – for those he hit out of sight,

To make full descents from their stratospheric height.

 

And now Jack just wanted – the wings of the Bees,

He smiled in obsequy – as if he could please,

The people of Beeville – and Goliad too,

The young Bees in earshot – suspected the screw.

 

But Bobinski signed up – to take the game deal,

And now it all rode – on the game outcome wheel,

With one big exception – to the Smiling Jack schpiel:

The giant could choose – his team of appeal.

 

Now Jack was so sure – of the giant’s allure,

That he signed on the line – to that team choice clause – for sure,

Bob winked as he signed – like he’d just found the cure,

For every addiction – but gambling – so pure.

 

The younger Bees all worried – how the giant might decide,

They held the fear that a Hick choice – would their money soon divide,

But Bob quickly calmed them down – “I’ve something to confide:

This isn’t so bad – that I’d really risk – our woeful hide – or even our baleful pride.”

 

“Six weeks back – I wrote to my brother – Goliath is his name,

I asked him to come here fast – over slow – but get here all the same.

He said that he would be here – get here just as soon as he could,

But he had to first find a farmer – and fool him – really good.”

 

“The rest of this big story – you mostly all know well,

Goliath found old Smiling Jack – and sized him up real clear,

Jack didn’t know beans about farming beans,

Or ‘Jack’ on catalytic growth – from our sweet-shine homemade beer.”

 

“Don’t worry about the little things – Goliath’s now here with us,

And once we dust off Goliad – and leave old Jack to cuss,

We’ll rumble round this state real hard – and really have some fun,

‘Cause when it comes to wins and dough – we’ve only just begun.”

 

 

Tags: a baseball fantasy

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