Posts Tagged ‘parody’

Time for an Astros Baseball Movie

August 14, 2010

The Hollywood summer movie list and the 2010 Houston Astros baseball season share this much in common: Neither has been very good – and both movies and the Astros have now reached the same point in which supporters of each spend more on concessions than they now do on tickets.

Maybe we were missing the boat by not suggesting this earlier, but its high time we had a good new baseball movie based upon the Astros. How about we use current movie titles with do-over scripts to make these film offerings more attractive. In this way, we shall also help the movie industry recover its own losses as we work hard to benefit our primary client, out hometown Astros.

In the spirit of the new re-make philosophy on old popular movies, I would like to start with a re-make proposal for the 1949 baseball movie classic, “It Happens Every Spring.” In this version, former Astros manager Larry Dierker is puttering around in his “build-your-own-senior-citizen-prescription-drugs-home-lab” when he accidentally invents a fluid that is repellent to wood. By placing the precious fluid in a sponge that he fits into the pocket of his old pitching glove, Larry finds that he is again able to pitch in spite of the injury that ended his original pitching career early. He goes to the Astros with a plan for making a comeback, without divulging how he plans to accomplish the same. Once Owner Drayton McLane, Jr., President Tal Smith, and General Manager Ed Wade recover from a case of falling down hysterical laughter, Dierker proposes that he be allowed to tryout in full view of their entire group and Field Manager Brad Mills.

A hasty tryout is arranged for Minute Maid Park. Larry promptly goes through the eight starters on 24 pitches and 24 swinging strikes for 8 K’s and an immediate contract to return as staff ace for 2011. He more than fills the gap, going 50-1 in the regular season, 7-0 in the playoffs, and 4-0 in the World Series against the New York Yankees. Dierker’s only loss came at the hands of Pittsburgh on the only day he forgot to bring his magic elixir with him to the ballpark. Because it took the Astros so long to reach this moment of glory, the original title of the first movie was altered sufficiently to match the Astros’ reality. The Dierker version is called, “It Happens Not Quite Every Spring.”

The summer movie titles offer other possibilities. Here are a few that I see, but perhaps you see others. If so, please add your suggestions as comments to this idea:

“The Expendables” – It’s the story of just about every player who remains on the 2010 Astros roster, but the featured stars need to be Roy Oswalt and Lance Berkman.

“Inception” – General Manager Ed Wade dreams that he can build a Word Series club in Houston purely from former players and prospects acquired from the Philadelphia Phillies. In the movie, Wade talks about the importance of building a strong farm system and he proceeds to draft and sign all of his 2011 choices at 50% of the expected market cost, but that part of the movie turns out to be only a dream within the dream and an accomplishment that never happened. When he awakens at his desk in the movie’s final scene, an aide is handing Wade a trade proposal that has just arrived by e-mail from the Seattle Mariners. Wade is staring seriously at the message as the camera slowly moves in for a tight shot of his face. An Ed Wade voice-over quietly whispers as a thought we all hear: “Seattle Mariners. Who in the heck are the Seattle Mariners?” (Movie fades to black. “The End” flashes on-screen.)

“The Other Guys” – This plot builds around the history of the World Series since 1962, Houston’s first season in the big leagues. The primary angle here is how it’s always “the other guys” who win the World Series – and how the Houston club hardly ever (once, so far) gets to even go to baseball’s big show. This movie is not recommended for any Houston adult who may already be suffering from a serious inferiority complex – nor for any Houston child needing to build healthy self-esteem.

Despicable Me – For the first time in history, Hollywood makes a movie about a major league bullpen and they decide to shoot the film in Houston and use members of the Astros relief pitching staff. No parts have been cast in bronze, so far, but Matt Lindstrom is said to be in line as the top candidate for the title role. We hear that only a confirmed back injury stands in his way.

Salt – When the sign “No Pepper Games” goes up on the field at Minute Maid Park, Geoff Blum rebels against the prohibition by changing the name of the “bunt and catch” exercise to that other favorite table seasoning and just encourages everybody to keep right on playing. The decision keeps the game alive and also scratches an ancient Blumian itch to resist new rules-making by faceless figures of authority.

Step Up – In the most improbable animated film since “Fantasia,” the Houston Astros respond to some magic dust that gets stuffed in the A/C system at Minute Maid Park by a small mystical child. They step up so often that they rally from sleeping with Pittsburgh to ripping the Reds and Cardinals – and then going on to bake the Yankees in the 2010 World Series. As i said, it’s an animated fantasy.

Toy Story – This one sort of embodies the best parts of many current summer hits. Brad Mills dreams that the Astros get rid of all players who are either expendable or despicable by dumping them on the other guys. He then dreams that GM Ed Wade steps up to the plate and opens a magic toy shop where twenty-five very compatible and virtually unbeatable players are assembled and made available with a five-year warranty on their competitiveness potential at the highest level. All but one of these players is kept on Wade’s new Astros roster when a space has to be made for the return of Larry Dierker and his wondrous new “whip-it-on-’em” out pitch.

“Eat, Pray, Love, Have a Sense of Humor” – Easiest movie plot of all: (1) Grab a great old ballpark hot dog! (2) Pray to God we all survive this down-time in Astros history; (3) Keep on loving the Astros and baseball in Houston in spite of the down times we are going through now; and, (4) Keep a sense of humor about this time and everything else that runs amuck every now and then. It’s the only way to survive – and the only known way that those first three items in this movie title make any real sense.

Have a dreamy weekend, everybody – and let us hear your own new Astros movie plots from any old or new movie title that comes to mind.

Sounds About Right

July 26, 2010

Leo Gorcey: Master of the Malaprop

If you’re old enough to remember The Bowery Boys movies from the 1940s, you’ve grown up with the misstated expression of speech as a fact of life. Sarah Palin would have felt right at home working the TV news with Leo Gorcey, who, as the chief Bowery Boy, was also the master of the malaprop when it comes to everyday efforts in communication.

I got to thinking (and that’s always dangerous): I wonder what Leo and Sarah would be like if they could team up as the early morning news team covering contemporary events in Houston for one of our local TV stations? For purpose of this brief exercise, I’ll assign Leo and Sarah to Channel 11 – since they always seem to be the station that needs the most help.

At least her words are original!

Here’s a parody clip from their Monday, July 26, 2010 broadcast:

Leo: “Good Morning, Houston! I hate to be protruding into your beauty rest too hard, but it’s Monday morning and all of youse guys and goils need to rise and shine and get ready for work. Me and Sarah here are going to try our best to bring you abreast of things going on around the Bayou City, but we want you to know too that we are working a little short-handed these days due to certain constipations in the budget here at Channel 11. Sarah, do you want to help fill the folks in on what that means?”

Sarah: “I’ll be happy to give it a go, Leo. You betcha, I will. –  Friends and fellow Houstonians, what Leo is trying to say is that we’re going to have to get by with less staff here at Channel 11 until we take in a little more advertising money.- That means, for now, but we’re hoping we can bring them back as soon as we can afford it, there will be no more Dr. Gene Norman doing the weather at night or David Paul or Mario Gomez doing weather during the early morning or midday shows. Also, don’t look for Matt Musil or Butch Alsandor doing the sports anytime soon either. Sad to say, Butch, Matt, and the rest of the crew will be hanging out at the unemployment office until we can talk you folks into giving us the support we need to re-hire them all here at Channel 11.

Leo: “Thank you, Sarah. That was a most dispicaable expectoration of the situation here at Channel 11. Or, as old Doc Norman might say, “The Norman Number for Monday, July 26, 2010 is a big fat 0!”

Sarah: “So, what that means, folks, is that Leo and I are going to take care of everything between the two of us: news, sports, weather, and traffic – Leo and I will have it all covered. And we are willing to do it with no held back preservations over the fact we aren’t getting paid extra-duty-dough for our efforts because that’s “the Spirit of Alaska.” Excuse me, I mean that’s “The Spirit of Texas!”

Leo: “Allow me to prevaricate what Sarah just said. We’re doing this for the people of Houston, people. It ain’t about the money, but it is about the great chasm of sentimentality that we hold out to all of you!”

Sarah: “Leo’s right, fellow citizens! All we care about is that we have one of those rare promiscuous opportunities for misinforming the public about subjugations we normally know nothing about.”

Leo: “Let’s turn to sports, Sarah, and the question that all Houstonians have about Oswalt the Baseball. Rabbit. – I guess that’s what he is; I don’t normally follow baseball, so I’m having to fill in the blanks of my usually corpulent brain. – I’ll just ask, as it says and seems to imply here in the script: Has Oswalt been baited, trapped, or traded since he got swept away by, it says here ‘the red plague’ on Saturday?”

Sarah: “Well, Leo, I checked with Astros General Manager Ed Wade about Roy Oswalt only last night, but Wade would not refudiate the rumor that a trade is already in the works with either the Yankees or the Phillies.

Leo: “Anything going on with the economy, Sarah?”

Sarah: “Leo, the economy is something I know something about. I learned a lot about money from my almost full term as Governor of Alaska.”

Leo: “Well, what did you learn?”

Sarah: “I learned that, for me, at least, there was more money to be made in writing a book and accepting a check for personal appearances than there was in reigning as a public official. In fact, if I hadn’t quit my goober-notorious job (I loved the free peanuts that came with it as a perk from Jimmy Carter. That’s why I called it my goober-notorious job), I would not be able to afford to work here ar Channel 11 today.”

Leo: “Do you think you could teach me the ropes on going that route myself, Sarah? I think I got at least one book and about a hundred speeches in me right now! And I sure as heck can’t afford to keep working at Channel 11 forever!”

Sarah: “I know I can help you as, indeed, I can help all my fellow Americans, Leo! All you need is the redundancy to deal with all the attempts at “change” that are going on out there on the political scene today.”

Leo: “Bring it on, Babe. I’m ready for the condensation.”

Carlos at the Bat

July 21, 2010

Carlos at the Bat

The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Astros nine that day:
 The team sat next to Pittsburgh, with but two months left to play. 
And then when Michael died at first, and Hunter did the same, a sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep and dark despair. The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
 they thought, if only Carlos could get but a whack at that – we’d put up even money, now, with Carlos at the bat.

But  Lance preceded Carlos, as did the new guy, Chris, and the former mimed Mendoza and the rookie just might miss. 
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, for there seemed but little chance of Carlos getting to the bat.

But Lance let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
 and Johnson, the surprise-one, tore the cover off the ball;
 and when the dust had lifted, and the fans saw what occurred,
 there was Johnson safe at second and old Berkman hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; it rumbled through the downtown streets, it rattled Michael Dell; it knocked upon the Crawford Box and recoiled El Caballo, for Carlos, mighty Carlos, was advancing near the bayou.

There was ease in Carlos’ manner as he stepped into his place; there was pride in Carlos’ bearing and a smile on Carlos’ face. 
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
 no stranger in the crowd could doubt – ’twas Carlos at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
 ten thousand thumbs all tweeted when he wiped them on his shirt.
 Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
 defiance gleamed in Carlos’ eye, a sneer curled Carlos’ lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
 and Carlos stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. 
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped.
 “No mas por favor,” said Carlos. “Strike one,” the umpire said.

From the grandstands, sparse of people, there rose up a tinny roar, like the beating of the human-wave on a bored, pathetic shore. “Pinch him! Pinch the umpire!” shouted an oddball in the stands;
 and its likely he’d a-pinched him had not Carlos raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Carlos’ visage shone; he stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
 he signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew; but Carlos gave no “si si,” and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened hundreds, and the echo whispered fraud; but one carefree look from Carlos and the audience was awed.
 They saw his face grow flat and cold, they saw his muscles sag, and they knew that Carlos would not drop his bat, a bunt to merely drag.

The fire is gone from Carlos’ lips, his jaw is falling slack; he pounds his bat with nonchalance, as if a fly to smack. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go. And now the air is gently stirred by the force of Carlos’ blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
 the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, and somewhere fans are laughing, and somewhere children shout; but there is no joy in Houston – El Caballo has struck out.

Astros Sweep Pirates

July 8, 2010

"She'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes!"

(The following lyrics work to the tune of “Comin’ Round the Mountain:”) *

Chorus One:

If we played the Pittsburgh Pirates every day!

If we played the Pittsburgh Pirates every day!

We could glide right to a pennant!

With the Astros sure to win it!

If we played the Pittsburgh Pirates every day!

Chorus Two:

If old Lance could hit ’em twice a bit more often!

If old Lance could hit ’em twice a bit more often!

We could let our hard hearts soften,

‘Stead of shopping for a coffin!

If old Lance could hit ’em twice a bit more often!

Chorus Three:

If sweet Roy could throw those goose eggs every time!

If sweet Roy could throw those goose eggs every time!

He’d be through with Astro-costin’,

‘Cause he’d soon be up at Boston!

If sweet Roy could throw those goose eggs every time!

—————————————————————–

*Indulge me, folks. This sort of word-rambling is my favorite remaining avenue of celebratory expression.

In The Big Inning …

June 24, 2010

In The Big Inning ...

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth so that people would have a place to play His great Gift to humankind, the game of baseball.

Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. He knew that it was going to be very hard for fielders to follow and catch high fly balls in games played under these circumstances.

Problem solved. God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. Man saw that light contained a built-in profit motive, After quickly organizing energy and utility companies who would provide light to consumers for a fee, man separated his kind into those who came to baseball games as players, and those who came to baseball games as fans. Players were paid a salary based upon their abilities to play and the power of their agents to shake down team owners for big bucks over time. Fans were separated into those who could variably afford tickets – and those who could not afford tickets at all. Those who could afford tickets would be rewarded with variably good seats in the light, based upon their abilities to pay. Those fans who could not afford tickets would be left outside in the darkness.

God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning on the first day. Baseball team owners saw that most of humanity worked during the light of day and slept in the darkness of night. And so those men who owned teams said, “Let there be artificial light to brighten the darkness and make baseball game attendance by fans preferable to sleep once the sun goes down.”

And God said, “Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water.” And the team owners-appointed Commissioner of Baseball said, “Let there either be a territorial expanse between the regional waters of differing teams for marketing purposes – or let there be a retailing contract among all teams that will charge fans for even writing our copyrighted team names on their tee shirts with a magic marker.”

So God made the expanse and separated the water under the expanse from the water above it. And it was so. So the Commissioner of Baseball too made the commercial expanse happen by collectively grouping all the waters of product marketing profit together so that all conceivable revenue streams flowed through his hands. And it was so self-serving.

And God continued through His steps of Heavenly Creation for six full days. And on the seventh day, He rested. And the Commissioner of Baseball has continued through his always-growing steps of revenue stream development, as he has from the beginning until now. And he never rests.

And that’s the gospel truth.

Ode to The 2010 Astros!

May 5, 2010

Frozen balls don't go far, but that's pretty much where we are.

Ode to The 2010 Astros: A Right and Tight Offense!

(lyrically sing-able to the tune of “White Christmas”)

I’m … dreaming … of a RIGHT … offense,

Just like the ONE we used to know,

Where the bats all GLISTEN,

As fans all LISTEN … to hear …

Three-hits-in-a-row,

… So …

I’m … dreaming … of a TIGHT … offense,

With every lineup card Brad writes.

May our Astros … once more … shine BRIGHT,

And may all our … losing streaks … be SLIGHT.

The Monster Team Nine.

January 25, 2010

"If you can't stretch for a few of my wild and hairy throws to first base, I'm going for the jugular!"

For want of a better Monday morning idea this week, here’s my Monster Club Baseball Nine. All those days at the Avalon Theatre armed me hard and fast for days like today.

Pitcher: Count Dracula. Biggest Assets: (1) Knows how to handle bats. (2) When everything is at stake, you will find his heart where it needs to be. Biggest Drawbacks: (1) Never available for day games. (2) When he gets knocked out of the box, he really gets knocked out of the box.

Catcher: The Thing from Another World. Biggest Asset: Possessing the vegetative body of an alien carrot, he has nothing to fear from proximity to his blood-hungry battery mate. Biggest Drawback: Tends to strike base runners with the back of his open right hand at the cost of ignoring the out tag with his ball-clutched glove hand.

First Base: The Frankenstein Monster. Biggest Asset: Plays with an extra charge of enthusiasm and power in games that follow rain-outs from thunderstorms. Biggest Drawback: Bad relations and misunderstandings with teammates are blamed on his poor communication skills.

Second Base: The Wolfman. Biggest Asset: Facial expressions are given credit for stopping baserunners from even trying to steal second base. Biggest Drawback: Only available to play once in a blue moon.

Third Base: The Wicked Witch of Oz. Biggest Asset: Doesn’t monkey around with batters who attempt to bunt their way safe with dribblers down the line. She’ll get you, you pretty fast base runners, and your little dog too. You may as well surrender to the idea of either holding back or swinging away. Biggest Drawback: She’s only good to go til it rains.

Shortstop: The Blob. Biggest Asset: No shortstop in history ever covered more ground. Biggest Drawbacks: (1) He is stuck on himself and anyone else who comes along. (2) He’s best known to his frustrated teammates as “the place where relay throws go to die.”

Left Field: Godzilla. Biggest Asset: Hits the long ball fifty times farther than McGwire, Sosa, or Bonds, and with no questions raised about his ‘roids use. Biggest Drawbacks: (1) Property damage judgments against him and the team for destruction caused simply by his ordinary game day walks to and from the ballpark  have destroyed the club’s profit edge. (2) Club has to bear the extra cost of paying for his Japanese translator.

Center Field: The Mummy. Biggest Asset: No need for expensive sun block lotions. Biggest Drawback: His snail-like locomotion is an issue. No game is ever considered “under wraps” with “Da Mum” on patrol in the huge central pasture of the outfield. In fact, any ball hit past The Mummy will routinely convert to either a four-base error or an inside-the-park home run.

Right Field: Bernie Madoff. Biggest Asset: His teammates trust him. Biggest Drawback: His teammates trust him.

That’s it for today. Maybe I’ll get serious tomorrow. Maybe I won’t.

Have a great week, everybody!

The Ballad of Eddie Gaedel.

December 22, 2009

In further deference to the spirit of this off-season, and to the fact that time is short as we run smack dab into Christmas in only three more days, here’s another parody I wrote ten years ago about the time on August 19, 1951 that St. Louis Browns club owner Bill Veeck sent a vertically challenged person (a so-called “midget” back in the pre-PC days) into a game against the Detroit Tigers. It only happened once, but it turned a memory that shall last forever. Here it is again for your last minute Christmas shopping pleasure or displeasure, “The Ballad of Eddie Gaedel”, as sung to the tune of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”:

The Ballad of Eddie Gaedel
(sung to the tune of “Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer”)
by Bill McCurdy, 1999.

Bill Veeck, the Brownie owner,
Wore some very shiny clothes!
And if you saw his sport shirt,
You would even say, “It glows!”

All of the other owners,
Used to laugh and call him names!
They wouldn’t let poor Bill Veeck,
Join in any owner games!

(chorus)
Then one humid summer day,
Bill Veeck had to – fidget!
Got an idea that stirred his soul,
He decided to sign a – midget!

His name was Eddie Gae-del,
He was only three feet tall!
He never played much baseball,
He was always just too small!

(chorus)
Then one day in Sportsman’s Park,
Eddie went to bat!
Took four balls and walked to first,
Then retired – just-like-that!

Oh, how the purists hated,
Adding little Eddie’s name,
To the big book of records,
“Gaedel” bore a blush of shame!

Now when you look up records,
Look up Eddie’s O.B.P.!
It reads a cool One Thousand,
Safe for all eternity.

Remembering the St. Louis Browns.

December 20, 2009

Ned Garver won 20 games for a club that lost 102.

A lifetime ago, before there was a major league club in Houston, those of us who grew up here had to pick one of the sixteen existing clubs to follow. We were all first Houston Buffs of the AA Texas League fans, of course, but we weren’t boondocks-dumb to the fact that the best brand of baseball was the variety played in either the National or American leagues, in most cases. We also were ego-loaded to the idea that a club like our ’51 Buffs could most likely take a team like the Pirates, the Senators, the A’s, or the Browns in a best of seven series any day of any October week during that era.

I had two favorite big league clubs, one from each major league. Not surprisingly, the first of mine was the St. Louis Cardinals of the National League. The Cards were the major league parent of our Houston Buffs and they were loaded with former Buffs who had stampeded their ways to the big time through the gates of Buff Stadium. My other club was an American League entry, but it wasn’t one that many fans chose to follow, even from among those people who lived in the city that had been its home since 1902.

How could you not like the only club that ever sent a midget into a real game as a batter?

The St. Louis Browns were simply awful most years. The rest of the time they were downright terrible. Except for their great club of 1922, the one led by Hall of Famer George Sisler to a one-game-short miss of the 1922 American League pennant, the 1944 Browns were the only club in franchise history to win an AL pennant. It wasn’t much to shout about. Any time you have to give an assist to a guy like Adolph Hitler for creating the manpower shortage that opened the door for the Browns to walk into their lone lucky title break its – well, its flat out embarrassing.

The Browns won the 1944  American League title at the wire over the Detroit Tigers and then lost the World Series in six games to their same neighborhood Cardinal rivals.

"Never look back. Something might be gaining on you." - Satchel Paige

I came aboard as a Browns fan during the 1951 season, mainly because of one man. That was the year that Browns pitcher Ned Garver won twenty games (20-12, 3.73) for a team that finished in last place with a record of 52-102. It was a case of unfortunate underdog misidentification, but my admiration for Garver’s achievement against the odds, plus the presence of the great Satchel Paige on their roster, plus Eddie Gaedel (see photo of midget batter), well, the short of it is simple. These all sucked me into accepting the Browns as my club in the American League.

It was a short-lived romance. After two more seasons in St. Louis (1952-53), the Browns departed the Mississippi River city in favor of a 1954 reincarnation on the east coast as the Baltimore Orioles. It was a move that rang the bell on other franchise relocations to soon come, and I hated it as deeply as though I had grown up with the Browns in St. Louis. As if I need now any help with compiling further reasons to dislike her, the Baltimore mayor who led the Browns transformation to Orioles just happened to have been the father of current House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.

Several years ago, I wrote a parody version of “Casey at the Bat” to express the meter and merit of my sadness over the Browns’ last game in St. Louis. In the nostalgic spirit of the season, and in memory of that long ago 1953 moment in Sportsman’s Park (renamed Busch Stadium), here’s what happened on September 27, 1953 in St. Louis, Missouri:

The Lost Hurrah: September 27, 1953
Chicago White Sox 2 – St. Louis Browns 1.

(A respectful parody of “Casey At The Bat” by Ernest L. Thayer in application to the last game ever played by our beloved Browns.)

by Bill McCurdy (1997)

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Brownie nine that day;
They were moving from St. Louis – to a place quite far away,
And all because Bill Veeck had said, “I can’t afford to stay,”
The team was playing their last game – in that fabled Brownie way.

With hopes of winning buried deep – beneath all known dismay,
The Brownies ate their cellar fate, but still charged out to play.
In aim to halt a last hard loss – in a season dead since May,
They sent Pillette out to the mound – to speak their final say.

The White Sox were that last dance foe – at the former Sportsman’s Park,
And our pitcher pulsed the pallor of those few fans in the dark.
To the dank and empty stands they came, – one final, futile time,
To witness their dear Brownies reach – ignominy sublime.

When Mickelson then knocked in Groth – for the first run of the game,
It was to be the last Browns score, – from here to kingdom came.
And all the hopes that fanned once more, – in that third inning spree,
Were briefly blowing in the wind, – but lost eternally.

For over seven innings then, – Dee bleached the White Sox out,
And the Browns were up by one to oh, – when Rivera launched his clout.
That homer tied the score at one, – and then the game ran on.
Until eleven innings played, – the franchise was not gone.

But Minnie’s double won the game – for the lefty, Billy Pierce,
And Dee picked up the last Browns loss; – one hundred times is fierce!
And when Jim Dyck flew out to end – the Browns’ last time at bat,
The SL Browns were here no more, and that was that, – was that!

Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, – and little children shout,
But there’s no joy in Sislerville, – the Brownies have pulled out.

Twas the Night Before Christmas 1951.

December 18, 2009

Twas the Night Before Christmas,

In Buffalo Stadium,

No spring things were growing,

Not a single Caladium.

Still the jock straps were hung,

In the clubhouse with care,

In the faith that come spring,

Fond hopes would forbear.

And the Cardinals would send us,

The guys to full fill ’em,

With pitchers like Dean,

And hitters like “Willem.”

And if we can’t land,

Teddy Ballgame, per usual,

We’ll happily settle,

For a hitter like Musial.

And we’ll dream of the day,

When the big time will come,

And we’re playin’ the Series.

‘Ginst the Yankees or Bums.

National or American,

Won’t matter to most,

But we’ll take the NL,

Like butter on toast.

But meanwhile the madness,

Won’t slow from a bustle,

As long as our leader,

Is Allen H. Russell.

On Witte! On Miggins! On Rubert! On Clark!

On Kazak! On Mizell! On Papai! Fire sparks!

Help us to get through these Off-Season Drearies!

With dreams of next taking that sweet Dixie Series!

Merry Christmas 1951, Houstonians! And watch out for all those super highways that are sprouting up all over town for the sake of saving us all from ourselves. Sure is comforting to know that we are blessed with all these local poiliticians and businessmen/land developers from downtown. Those big rich guys really seem to have our best interests at heart!