The Heir

One last chance to get your Mike Piazza Zines before Christmas

Some years ago, Adam and I discovered an internet message board devoted to the singer Morrissey that featured a long post by some anonymous person about how they had repeatedly run into Mike Piazza at his shows, including in the front row at the Greek Theater in LA.

I can’t find it now, but we always appreciated the fact that Mike was willing to get down to The Smiths and Morrissey (current politics notwithstanding). I looked for that post the other day but couldn’t find it. In his autobiography, Long Shot, Piazza talks about how a minor league teammate got him into The Smiths, Oingo Boingo, and other new wave type bands.

Anyway, we sold out of our first run of Mike Piazza Zines over the weekend, and w want to say thank you to everybody who ordered. Meanwhile, Adam is printing and constructing new ones literally as we speak — which means that if you order by end of day Tuesday December 14, there’s still time for us to get them to you before Christmas.

Below is a sonnet from the zine. It is called “The Heir.”

I meant to write an epic poem about 

The young Piazza in Los Angeles:

His size. His hair. Striding from the dugout 

To a welcome like the one Odysseus

Was hoping for back in Ithaca;

The crash and soar of each home run.

The fact that he had become mythic 

In the Ravine alongside Jose Offerman. 

There he goes down Sunset Boulevard,

The love of millions glinting in a pair 

Of wraparound shades. A baseball card

Could never tell you why this was the son, the heir.

A baseball card could not describe the space

Dividing what we felt and what he faced.  

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