(5.25 No.46 — 162 Baseball Poems 2015)

By Steve Hermanos

“I’m sorry, Casey,
I’ve got some bad news;
We don’t have any good choices here,
I don’t want you to take this personal,
And I wish I had something else to tell you,
We’re going in another direction,
We’d like you to go to Sacramento,
But you don’t have to—
We’re designating you for assignment”;

Casey McGehee stares at Bruce Bochy,
Each of a large, fleshy head;

McGehee who’s pulling in
$4,800,000.00 this year,
Who’s hitting .200,
With a sickly .282 slugging percentage,
Naturally slow, further hobbled by a knee half-torn in April,
Miniscule range snagging balls at third base,
Atop the league for hitting
Into double plays;

The Giants will pay him
If he spends the rest of the year
Fishing off his hometown Santa Cruz pier;
If he checks in long-term to the Vegas Bellagio,
Lolling on a chaise longue in a pool of Champagne
fawned over by ladies of the night;

McGehee says,
“I’ve got a lot left in the tank”;

Bochy replies,
“I’m sure you do, too;
I’d like you to stay in the organization,
Get that knee healthy,
Come back and help us go to the playoffs again”;

Casey McGehee is 32,
Old, in this era devoid of steroids,
Has raked in $9.7 mill,
On mediocre talent;

Even with a healed knee,
He’s on a downslide,
To where?

But Casey McGehee,
Has spent his life
Proving poets wrong.

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