By Phil Cousineau

Where baseball and haiku overlap is the art of deceptive simplicity and the impulse to describe the shining moments of the deeply real. As Jack Kerouac writes in Dharma Bums, “A real haiku has to be simple as porridge, but make you see the real thing.” The Basho of Baseball, Yogi Berra, agrees saying, “You can observe a lot just by watching.”
a baseball moon
one hundred and eight stitches
rising over the light towers
the coach whacks the ball —
a fungo flung high across the sky
—the crowd gasps with joy
floating knuckleball —
the hitter lunges at the
butterfly with the hiccoughs
chilly spring night
a sizzling hit past the mound
warms up the reliever
blue motel room
the rookie hurler can’t sleep –
regrets three hanging curveballs
warm summer wind
in the seventeenth inning
a vendor shouts—last beer!
nighttime softball
seagulls fly over the field
nine flapping white mitts
frazzled groundskeeper
rolls the tarp across the field—
forty thousand rain checks
right fielder grabs the carom
throws a long low rope to the plate
—runner freezes at third
sky high leg kick
ninety-five on the radar
hitter sniffs at thin air
back to the minors, rookie!
shouts the red-faced boobird—
he wants his money back!
bottom of the ninth
rookie hurler searches the stands –
his dad behind the dugout
dusty Mexican ballfield
farmer’s kid swings a broomstick—
a donkey brays strike one!
Kyoto sauna
ten sweaty men staring at the game
on the steamy TV screen
an old railroad depot
a young boy listens to the scores
on the telegraph wire
the Slammer launches one
over the trees by the train tracks—
the whistle blows and blows
ponytailed girl wraps
tape around her splintered bat
hammers in five nails
lusty cheers behind the dugout
the on-deck hitter can’t take
his eyes off her.
Phil Cousineau has published more than 40 books and written over 25 documentaries on topics ranging from art and music to travel and sports—including the Emmy-award winning film, “Stealing Home.” This is an excerpt from his book Fungoes and Fastballs: Great Moments in Baseball Haiku.