Realist
10-21-2005, 04:56 PM
I'm posting this poem in the Clubhouse for two reasons. The first reason is so people can enjoy the poem in the context of the 2005 Chicago White Sox and their accomplishment of making it to the World Series. I'm sure many of us have been reflecting on past White Sox players and teams this past week. When reading the Clubhouse we think of the White Sox and when reading the Parking Lot we're often thinking of video games, defunct this and thats or favorite bands. I believe the context of this poem deserves to be nestled amongst our thoughts of the upcoming series.
The second reason is to let the world know that we are not cursed. There's a very good chance Fox is going to play up the BS "curse of Shoeless Joe" crap this weekend. This beautiful Nelson Algren poem is completely void of any curses or hints of curses. We are not cursed but we have been blessed with one of America's greatest writers as a fan of the White Sox.
A Silver-Colored Yesterday
Do not be remembering the most natural man ever to wear spiked shoes.
The canniest fielder and the longest hitter,
Who squatted on his heels
In a uniform muddied at the knees,
Till the bleacher shadows grew long behind him.
Who went along with Chick and Buck and Happy
Because they treated him so friendly-like,
Hardly like Yankees at all.
With Williams because Lefty was from the South too.
And with Risberg because the Swede was such a hard guy.
Who made an X for his name and couldn't argue with
Comiskey's sleepers.
But who could pick a line drive out of the air ten feet outside the foul line
And rifle anything home from anywhere in the park.
For Shoeless Joe is gone, long gone,
A long yellow grass-blade between his teeth
And the bleacher shadows behind him.
- Nelson Algren
The second reason is to let the world know that we are not cursed. There's a very good chance Fox is going to play up the BS "curse of Shoeless Joe" crap this weekend. This beautiful Nelson Algren poem is completely void of any curses or hints of curses. We are not cursed but we have been blessed with one of America's greatest writers as a fan of the White Sox.
A Silver-Colored Yesterday
Do not be remembering the most natural man ever to wear spiked shoes.
The canniest fielder and the longest hitter,
Who squatted on his heels
In a uniform muddied at the knees,
Till the bleacher shadows grew long behind him.
Who went along with Chick and Buck and Happy
Because they treated him so friendly-like,
Hardly like Yankees at all.
With Williams because Lefty was from the South too.
And with Risberg because the Swede was such a hard guy.
Who made an X for his name and couldn't argue with
Comiskey's sleepers.
But who could pick a line drive out of the air ten feet outside the foul line
And rifle anything home from anywhere in the park.
For Shoeless Joe is gone, long gone,
A long yellow grass-blade between his teeth
And the bleacher shadows behind him.
- Nelson Algren