Baseball Dot Lit

Baseball Dot Lit Baseball literature and history, as well as general observations about how the game reflects our culture

Nobody Cares About Your Fantasy Baseball Team, Edit Uno:As great moments of baseball history go, I deserve to have a bas...
03/06/2026

Nobody Cares About Your Fantasy Baseball Team, Edit Uno:
As great moments of baseball history go, I deserve to have a baseball card due to first, my prowess in fantasy baseball. I grew up playing Strata Matic, for strategy grounders, then played baseball for the winningest high school baseball coach in Arizona history, he being into cybernetics in 1977 ... ANway last year my four ESPN pro league teams all went to the championship series. So, with no further boring moneyball s**t, here is my list of team names for this year's season ...

The Portlandia Inflatables
Defunded Pharoahs
Nine Item Vetoes
Pirates of Atlantis
My Nine Go to Eleven
And, of course, The Mythville Monks

For those poets and wanna-be songwriters I am choosing this page to provide a link for an AI music creation device that ...
03/06/2026

For those poets and wanna-be songwriters I am choosing this page to provide a link for an AI music creation device that is essentially ink-on-paper, all the same ... Now that print journalism is dead, maybe topical resistance rock can rise from the ashes of journalism
https://www.mureka.ai?invite_code=vUjaMj

03/01/2026

Lance McCullers needed eight pitches to throw a 1-2-3 first inning and touched 94.6 mph.

(Brian McTaggart)

03/01/2026

Sandman

Sing a dainty dirg
for the New York Yankees,
but note the fact
the sun arose the next day
as all the victories
stand, sure as yellow sunflowers
in the fall, falling away ...
Now that the best team
money can buy needs
first aid from the tip jar
for the daily
emergency management
donut fund, the Bombers
and the Joker
are on the run,
and the gangster managers
of U.S. Banks are running
from pranks organized
by mischevious teenagers
running out of bullets
playing digital games,
the bragging rights
now a toss up into the air,
a toxic point-and-shoot affair
of agents so say it ain't so
the best team in baseball
needs to reload, since the Sandman
can no longer come in the Ninth
to ice over the Show
and those who gave a flying f ...
about football can stand
and listen to make sharp yelps
about how I'm paying my own price
with wobbly knees, posts as painful
as typhoons out of season
as we ask a Navajo woman
draped in a royal blue
Dallas Cowboys' number nine jersey
in a defense against the sound and fury
of the noise of the laundry room,
focused on her cell phone like a weapon,
a fence against the outside world,
which sends in scores and more
as the rocking horse hick drones
on about how much his Saturday morning
hangover hurts over the radio,
and neither of us can see the country
crooner because today, sponsored
Ford trucks, is the anniversary
of the day I confessed to crimes
I never committed, places I never
will see, to things I can't remember,
forces I have no knowledge of, waves
I can sense but not see, feel or hear
churning up the winds, the rains, the snows,
falling from above, pushing up from below,
in patterns beyond my science,
no longer local, just passing through,
not on the ball, like Lucy removing
the football to make me look like the fool
after your ice-cold Bud is just another
beer can on a giant empty parking lot
where gas-guzzling lads, ladies in cheerleader
uniforms are stripped, cloned and sent
on their way for a full day
of prayer and fasting, knowing:
The sports godz have had their say

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