Some Cuttings for a Sports Fan's Garden of Versus

A couple of notes: Terry O'Reilly, who's mentioned in the first poem, was a very popular player for the Boston Bruins in the 1970s and early 1980s. The limerick was inspired by a controversy that arose after a young woman reportedly pulled down her pants so several New York Yankee players could autograph her buttocks. Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn announced that he was investigating but nothing came of it.

What's Bruin on March 17?

Massachusetts is a state
Where the Irish celebrate
On the feast of good St. Patrick
And when Terry O'Reilly scores the hat trick.

Blondes and Baseball Don't Mix
But Some Blondes Mix Too Well

There once was a woman named Brenda
Whose skin was quite tough and not tenda.
She met some Yankees and gottom
To sign her bare bottom
Which put them on Bowie's agenda.

Singular Reflections on Plural Subjects
in an Ogden Nash-ion Fashion

Even though some people are nice enough to tell me I don't look that old, I go all the way back to the days when a family newspaper wouldn't dare call an athlete a "jock,"
And all that time I've been trying to figure out something about sports, and that is, I know the Boston baseball team is called the Red Sox, but when you're referring to only one of the players, is he a Red Sox too or is he just one Red Sock?
And I also know that when a Frenchman refers to a "love apple," he doesn't mean a tennis ball, he means a tomato,
But what is just one person who plays for the Dallas Tornado?
You might suggest that we call him a Gust or a Puff,
But if you've ever been anywhere near a real tornado, you know that no matter how many gusts or puffs you put together to make one, it just wouldn't be enough.
I know the Utah, formerly the New Orleans, Jazz is trying to trade away Pete Maravich, who was their first name big-name star,
But I don't know what to call him while he plays for them—is he just one Jazz note or is he perhaps an entire bar?
(And the idea of the Jazz being in Utah strikes me as downright silly, if not quaint.
It's sort of like if the football team down there in Louisiana was called the New Orleans Latter Day Saints.)
Continuing along the same lines, if you're not tired already,
I know that Downtown Brown's real first name is Freddie,
But if soccer instead of basketball was his thing,
And he played for Chicago, what would you call him? Just one of the Sting?
Once upon a time, I met a guy who played in the now defunct World Football League for the Chicago Fire,
And I thought I was being clever when I called him a Flame, but he said, "I don't play hockey and I don't play for Atlanta, so you're wrong on both counts, and that makes you a lire."
Still, just as I'm glad that there are sports to be played by people of all ages and all sexes, whether they live in a city, which makes them urban, or in the country, which makes them rural,
I'm glad that most teams have sensible, old-fashioned names that make it easy to distinguish the singular from the plural.
Speaking of sensible names for teams, that reminds me of the story about the baseball fan who saw a halo sort of hovering around the Hollywood Bowl.
The fan asked, "Did you perchance come off an Anaheim Angel's uniform?" And the halo replied, "No, I am not from California, I am from the East Coast. As a matter of fact, I am a Baltimore Aureole."