brewers baseball and things


same sensation

he had no name, no birth certificate anyway, so he went by whatever strangers called him, look or shade, sometimes Moot, other times Quicksand and so with the world series over, he found old books, of Clem Bukaraskin in Cottage Grove, tossing pebbles at rodents to perfect aim and Clete Tamboykins swinging sticks at popcorn seeds to sync arms and hips dreaming of of a 27-game hitting streak by a boy born in far away town Idaho, a history of the PCL, Orlando Mitz’s trick pitches and all those tragic baseball suicides, and so he read and researched all the way to mid-February and full moon pitchers and catchers reported life all over again.


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the 28th

it was a no win situation. The first five batters were far from dubious. they’d been nailing hard drives into the everywhere since the first grade and here they were, all together, on the same team, in the same line up, and across the small sea stood an awkward gang, hair kind of messy, bowl cut black bangs, switch blades, reciting psalms. they had no rhyme, only nods of the head to do your own thing and they won with bunts and what not and there was a tall kid after the win who wanted to be added to this other team and there was a winter and another season opening day and the team rosters were not the same…and the game went on anyway.


a beer

i haven’t been watching much of the baseball this post season, but i caught the news the other night. they were interviewing one of the three nobel prize winners for science. she said galaxies are born from black holes and that got me thinking about a lot of things like me pacing my apartment, drunk, way past the liquor store closing time and me really wanting another drink and not having a flask when my fridge opens and two closed beers bump to the floor and then roll right to me and I swear there were no beers in the refrigerator……is this the creation story rhetoric….of something coming from nothing…..of two beers suddenly appearing? is the universe expanding? do the people on the moon or people on other planets really care what’s happening to planet earth?



It was one of those motels with lawn chairs set up outside the rooms, 50 bucks a night, cockroach tape beside the beds. In the lobby, the owner was watching tv. There was one of those windows on the ceiling, a skylight. There was a moth or a butterfly banging into the window, presumably struggling to get back outside.

An older man wearing a white button down shirt looked up at the moth or butterfly flapping away and then noticed the blue sky and he didn’t know why, but he thought about those times in New York when there were three baseball teams playing in the same city with that Coogan’s Bluff outside the Polo Grounds and kids probably sneaking into Ebbets Field and some other happenings at Yankee stadium.

Maybe he felt like the moth or butterfly and wanted what he could never have?