Muggsy’s Saloon

Not sure what to make of this afterlife stuff,
But the way it’s portrayed, it just won’t be enough.
Angelic choirs would surely be nice,
But an eternity of same would never suffice.
I need something else—with vinegar and piss –
To enhance my allotment of heavenly bliss.

It’s my fervent belief that heaven should fuse
My two favorite pastimes: baseball and booze.
I envision a sports bar with no closing time,
All drinks on the house—won’t cost me a dime!
As my spirit revives from the spirits imbibed,
My companions insure I receive a good vibe.
The patrons? Old-timers, baseballists all!
And remember the house rules—there is no last call.

If I were in charge, I would surely anoint
Muggsy McGraw as the boss of the joint.
In a realm such as this, his glory resounds,
As in decades long past at Ye Olde Polo Grounds.

Let’s start with a toast to—ball four!—Eddie Yost.
Salud, Rico Carty, you’re the life of the party.

At first I’ll drink slowly, just a beer with Rob Deer,
Then warming up quickly, two beers with Dave Veres.
I call for a brewski with Gary Waslewski,
Some ale with Rich Gale, Chip Hale or Mike Vail.
Hey, Jose Cruz! Care to down a few brews?

One last yeastly yearning I have yet to define:
That’s a stein with Bill Mug—no, a mug with Bill Stein.

But the sudsters supreme in this venue, I’ll wager,
Are the Milwaukee Brewers, both minor and major.
Now the ‘64 Phils—aaaargh? That team was a loser!
But how could it be? With Bobby Wine and John Boozer?

Oh, speaking of wine, I’ll be sure to make merry
With the battery brothers, Larry/Norm Sherry.
Then Jackie and Lou…guys, I’ll be your crony…
That’s Brandy with Brandtand Merlot with Merloni.
Next a glass of Bourdeaux with Joe Charboneau,
Plus gallons of vino with Babe, the Bambino.

I’ll move on to mixed drinks with Scipio Spinks;
Try a Singapore sling with Jim King and Royce Ring,
Some eggnog or grog with Wade Boggs or Josh Fogg;
Then share some champagne with Garth and Dane Iorg;
A belt of hard cider with Al and Mark Leiter,
And a tart whiskey sour with Hanks Sauer and Bauer.
Los Pedros, amigos, oh, don’t drink alone!
That’s Los Pedros de Bourbon…or rather Borbon.

I’ll join Phil Roof in a gin and vermouth,
then offer Matt Mieske a Canadian whiskey,
and perhaps a Bacardi to Randy Velarde.
I’ll supply Lenn Sakata with a piña colada,
Then enjoy a frappé with Barbaro Garbey.
Next some shots of tequila with Bobby Avila;
I’ll imbibe with Tom Zachary and his choice of daiquiri,
Slug a few belts of gin with Saul Rogovin,
And sip amaretto with Cookie Lavagetto.

Juice of pineapple plus rum for Hawaiian Mike Lum?
I’ll check with Trot Nixon to see what he’d mix in.
Would the Georgia Peach drink a sex on the beach?
Should I insult Xavier Nady with a piquant Pink Lady?
I’d like a martini with the Giants’ Chub Feeney;
For sure, Ron LeFlore with some fancy liqueur,
and one kamikaze with the Wizard of Ozzie!

Could I interest Marty Pattin in a well-mixed Manhattan?
If it’s not to his liking, I can try Grady Hatton.
Next, Long Island ice tea with Willie McGee,
And a Bronx margarita wit’ da Yanks’ Derek Jeeta!

But I promise to youse, if I’m sick of booze,
I’ll lay off the sauce and just have a Coke
Or water with Lemon—that Chet Lemon bloke—
Maybe join De Wayne Buice for a glass of grape juice.

Or I could have a latte with Bart Giamatti.
First I’ll offer a toast, to his health and mine,
Then we’ll shatter some bottles of Pete Rosé wine,
Drink to Frank Merriwell with white zinfandel
and Elihu Yale with Ballantine Ale.

Yes, I’ll raise lots of hell on my heavenly bender;
And why not? There’s no bar tab, no money to tender!
Best of all, in my plunge in that deep, boozy river—
No blackouts, no DTs, no overtaxed liver.
This sports bar ethereal comes with no curse—
Indulgence supreme with no turn for the worse.
In fact, I declare—beyond all conjecture—
There’s no need at all for a Don Newcombe lecture.

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Frank Jackson writes about baseball, film and history, sometimes all at once. He has has visited 47 major league parks, many of which are still in existence.

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