Writing > No such thing as a rain delay in Mexico
April 15, 2011: No such thing as a rain delay in Mexico, it would seem

Diablos Rojos del México 2 Saraperos de Saltillo 12
7:00pm Friday April 15, 2011
Time: 3:15
Attendance: 5,619
Weather: windy, rainy, cold

I'm certainly not a person that could be described as a poet. Not by a long shot. But in a recent email discussion with Ted and Eric from Pitchers & Poets, I mentioned that it might be an interesting experiment to see if one could do a report on a baseball game as a series of haikus.

So I tried at this evening's Diablos Rojos game. I wrote the haikus after each half-inning. Apologies to real poets for stomping all over your art form in my clumpy boots.



Top 1st:
Raining and windy.
Two singles and a home run.
Saltillo three up.

Bottom 1st:
Fly ball and pop foul,
Tame ground ball to first.
Three up and three down.

Top 2nd:
Lightning, rain lashing.
The fans migrate to shelter;
The game continues.

First pitch long home run.
Walk, line drive to center field.
6-3, runner scores.

Base on balls again,
Two more and pitcher yanked.
Four run inning. Shit.

Bottom 2nd:
Crowd still into it,
Despite being seven down.
Fat bald guy farted.

Two on and two out.
Ground out to short kills rally.
Beautiful lightning.

Top 3rd:
Home run. Pissing down.
Why are they still playing ball?
Walks bases loaded.

Another walk: run.
A single scores two more runs.
This is getting ugly.

Bottom 3rd:
It's twelve to nothing
Fly ball, ground out: this is shit
Double, F8, over.

Top 4th:
T-shirt. It is cold,
Feel unenthusiastic.
One, two, three inning

Bottom 4th:
Last year's champions
Finally give up some runs:
A two-run homer.

Top 5th:
Groundskeepers: more dirt.
On the mound, around home plate
One, two, three, again.

Bottom 5th:
Only fifth inning
Cold and a little bit wet.
Cold beer doesn't help.

Saltillo: teal uni,
Caps and jerseys with gray pants.
Looks kinda shitty.

E1 fielding and
Throwing: reached second base.
Runner left on base.

Top 6th:
Could be with friends,
Laughing and looking at girls,
Having fun indoors.

One, two, three again.
This reliever seems quite good;
I guess there is hope.

Bottom 6th:
Queen, We Will Rock You.
And Welcome to the Jungle,
And Gary Glitter.

Shakira and Stones.
Walk, K, hit, mound visit, K.
Rain stopped, need a piss.

Cold hands, warm penis.
Then a "Super Maxx" hot dog.
I washed my hands first.

Top 7th:
Warm, tasty sausage.
(The hot dog, not my penis.)
Missed all top seventh.

Bottom 7th:
Mustard, tomatoes,
Plenty of jalapeños.
My breath is lovely.

Diablos losing,
It's twelve to two. Eight hits each.
All those fucking walks...

Top 8th:
Smoked a cigarette,
And drank my fourth Corona.
Sarapero walked.

A long, foul fly ball:
Terrazas dived and caught it.
Hit wall and dropped ball.

Bottom 8th:
Idiot standing,
Blocking my view of the game,
Talking on his phone.

Both bat boys midgets.
There's no reason to tell you,
But it is the truth.

Top 9th:
Saltillo grounders.
"Si se puede!" shout the fans,
Optimistic fans.

Bottom 9th:
First up hit by pitch.
It won't happen, but hope lives.
It's raining again.

Pop up, fielders choice.
Diablos down to last out:
Fly ball to center.

Post game show:
Long walk to subway.
Had to jump over a fence;
The bridge gate was closed.

Apart from one car,
Couple fucking in back seat,
The street's deserted

On train, a man with
Little kitten in back pack.
The warm subway car.