March MADness by Dennis Lange

(Photo credit: mvongrue)

March MADness

Florida WHO???
Beat number two!
That smashing sound,
Heard world around,
That awful racket
Was just my bracket
And Hoyas (Georgetown)
As both crashed down.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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Cock-a-doodle Doofus by Dennis Lange

Cock-a-doodle Doofus

The greatest deeds no trumpet need;
   No preening for applause;
Sincere appreciation comes
   When begging’s not the cause.

The stars don’t shout, yet we adore;
   We laud the rising Sun;
And after his grand morning show,
   He merely beams when done.

The rooster crows (though he’s done naught)
   As if he birthed the morn;
So, too, his mate in feathers, kind,
   Post-egg will toot her horn.

But those are fowl and foul in boasts;
   Great acts can stand alone,
And all the crowing in the world
   Can’t for the less atone.

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This poem is for all the athletes in the world
(and all others like them) who taunt, boast,
and strut like vain roosters.

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photo by Nahidh Salman at http://www.rgbstock.com/user/nahidh

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

 

 

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Horse Racing by Dennis Lange

Big Brown, the winner of the Kentucky Derby and Preakness Stakes, at the 2008 Belmont Stakes, where he was pulled up. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Horse Racing

The Derby, Preakness, Belmont Stakes –
Horse-racing’s Triple Crown;
You check the times to watch the shows;
You know what’s going down.

The shows are always hours long;
Three minutes is a race -
Like waiting for a cent’ry plant
To show one blossom’s face.

The interviews with the elite,
How things must be just so,
Are longer than the seconds that
We watch the horses go.

And then there are the fancy hats,
And all the fancy clothes.
You think a sports fan really wants
To hear you tell of those?

Parading horses to the gate
Lasts longer than the lap.
I want to turn the talking off
And take an hour nap.

There is a way to hedge your bets
And still trifecta win,
To have the prize within the box
That’s in the box and in….

Make thoroughbreds a quarter horse
By doing what we know,
And watch the final fifteen ticks -
The race a quarter show.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

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College Football 2011 by Dennis Lange

A college football game between Texas Tech and Navy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

        College Football – 2011

The tag “dumb jock”, for an athlete might stick
Surveying reading, writing, ‘rithmetic
In college football these chaotic years,
As conferences change as trucks change gears.

For instance, the Big 12 has members – 10.
Now count to 12 and you’ll fall short again.
The Big 10 likewise fails in basic math;
For it, a surplus; it 12 members hath.

And when it comes to geographical,
The college scene again is laughable;
The Pac-10 (read Pacific, west coast teams)
Wooed Texas, Colorado, for its schemes.

But in the end, it’s not the classroom’s fault;
The culprit lies within a fattened vault.
It’s not that none can add nor is a scholar –
Lone concern is the almighty dollar.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

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Championship Haiku by Dennis Lange

The national championship game for college football was played in New Orleans last night (1/9/12) between Alabama Crimson Tide (2) and LSU Tigers (1).   The two teams had played earlier in the season, with LSU winning 9-6.  The following haiku were written during the game (with some changes forced by what occurred during the game).

Bama wins,
21, 0.
Tigers skunked.

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Superdome,
Ghost of Katrina –
Tide rolled in.

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History!
In BCS games –
First shutout.

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Their two games:
Just one touchdown scored –
Ten field goals.

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The two teams,
Voted in by polls –
Were they best?

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Best team champ?
One team will say no –
OSU.

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Next year – change:
Vote in the two teams;
Vote who wins.

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* The team in the 6th haiku is Oklahoma State University.
**BCS – Bowl Championship Series – The top teams in a poll at the end of the regular season are placed into BCS games, with the only meaningful game being the championship game.  There are no playoffs leading to a champion in U.S. college football at the highest level.

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Photo through Wikipedia.

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

    See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2012.

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Two Football Haiku by Dennis Lange

Image via Wikipedia

The Fifth Season

Four quarters
Green stadium grass
Football fields.

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Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

Football field
Where ambulance parks
Friday nights.

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.
    See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed:

   http://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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Casey At The Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

                 Casey At The Bat

It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood two to four, with but one inning left to play.
So, when Cooney died at second, and Burrows did the same,
A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest,
With that hope which springs eternal within the human breast.
For they thought: "If only Casey could get a whack at that,"
They'd put even money now, with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, and likewise so did Blake,
And so the former was a pudd'n, and the latter was a fake.
So on that stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a "single" to the wonderment of all.
And the much despised Blakey "tore the cover off the ball."
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred,
There was Blakey safe at second, and Flynn a-huggin' third.

Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell -
It rumbled in the mountaintops, it rattled in the dell;
It struck upon the hillside and rebounded on the flat;
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

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

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then when the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped;
"That ain't my style," said Casey.  "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on the stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

WIth a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult, he made the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed;
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain;
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let the ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lips, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel vengeance his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

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 somewhere children shout.
But there is no joy in Mudville - Mighty Casey has struck out.

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LeMent by Dennis Lange

       LeMent          
  (June 13, 2011)      

Oh, to be in Dallas           
   On this Monday morn, 
And be a Dallas Maverick man           
   While tooting on a horn.           

Oh, to be in Dallas           
   Now the prize is won, 
To join in the spreading joy           
   Since they are number one.           

Oh, to be in Dallas,           
   The place they call Big D. 
Today it is a better place           
   Than here in Miami.   

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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