The Feast of Brumley the Long-Lived

Very few Feast Days take place during the actual baseball season.  The reasons for this are obscure and hidden from the masses, but from the underground are sometimes heard mutterings of “logistics”.

Life: Mike Brumley was paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to wear silly clothing and provide a backdrop for the greatness of others. Brumley contains multitudes: he is known for being the least valuable member of the rookie class of 1987, producing below replacement level in eight of his nine major league seasons. He played seven positions and was above-average at none of them. His career underscored the truth that there is virtue in the absence of strength, and that there is tenacity in existence.  Said existence marches onward as a first base coach for the Seattle Mariners, combining advice for young inattentive people with a propensity for squinting.

Spiritual Exercise: Consider the Taoist philosophy of uselessness, as evidenced in the words of the Chuang-tzu: “Mountain trees are their own enemies, and the leaping fire is the cause of its own quenching. Cinnamon is edible, therefore the cinnamon tree is cut down. Ch’i oil is useful, therefore the ch’i tree is gashed.” The gnarled oak, meanwhile, is good for nothing, and thus it survives. Was Brumley’s success in life, such as it is, the direct result of his own obscurity?  To carry the metaphor a step further: is Mike Brumley a political animal?

A Prayer For Mike Brumley

Mike Brumley!
You lent Ken Griffey, Sr. your bat
As Unferth lent his sword to Beowulf,
Rendering yourself a footnote
To a footnote in history.
You are the patron saint of beat writers.

In your spare time, you lend credence
To the hoary old adage
That those who can’t do, teach.
Many of those who witnessed your early work
Swore to each other that someday,
You would spend your evenings telling runners
How many outs there are.

There are two outs,
You whisper into the night air.
There are two outs.
Run on anything.

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Patrick Dubuque is a wastrel and a general layabout. Many of the sites he has written for are now dead. Follow him on Twitter @euqubud.

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Carson Cistulli

This touched me in and around the soul part of my body.


Show us on the doll where he touched you, Carson.

Big Jgke
Big Jgke

Aren’t you the poet laureate around these parts, Carson?

Is it time for a duel of the iron mics style clash?