Heard the right-wing baseball conspirators talking about your All-Star team?!!



. . . though commonly and understandably assumed to be a Russian, was actually born in Martinez, California. This Yankee imperialist-slugger is most renowned for raking opposing speakers for hits in 56 straight plenary sessions. In the late 1930s he sponsored the purge of recalcitrant shortstop Tony Kulak and half a million Communist Party members, a feat for which he is accorded the highest slugging percentage (3.142) in all of dialectical materialist history.


. . . is a man of stolid simplicity, as one might guess from his sturdy two-syllable moniker. He is unexcelled at reading the signals of his Moscow coaches, so it is no surprise that he is the only first baseman of the modern era never to have committed an error. This is not to discount the improvisational gifts of this crafty veteran. Like all the great first sackers, he knows that the ability to stretch the truth often spells the difference between scratch hits and drag bunts for the forces of reaction and inning-ending outs. In a move destined to boost the ever-growing fame of Hall, he has named the Bay Area's own Angela Davis to be "a heartbeat away from first base" this year.


. . . scored a great propaganda victory for socialism when he literally fielded every bullet fired his way by a secret Yankee death squad known as "Murderer's Row." Though forced into premature retirement from earthly existence by a freak accident in the World Series, he achieved sainthood for his starkly moving pamphlet The Double Play: The Beginning of Guerrilla Warfare.


. . . is rebounding from a series of bad seasons. Under the tutelage of coach Moraji Desai has returned to Port Urine to revive his sagging performance. Hayden is a free swinger, which bothers his coaches. One bemoans, "Tom gets behind one strike, at times two strikes, but the count is always no balls."


. . . member of St. Louis' notorious Gashouse Gang, is a player with a problem shared by no other member of this team. His right even to suit up as a Surrealist Workers All-Star is questioned by many well-meaning, but misguided, individuals. Yet his call for confiscatory taxation of season ticket holders, lifetime pensions for goundskeepers, and death sentences for all scalpers clearly places him in the socialist camp. At the root of the slanders against Hitler is a remark falsely attributed to him. An overly inebriated sportscaster was describing to a fellow partygoer, Herr Schirtt, an inning of a bygone All-Star game in which Roberto Clemente, Willie Mays, and Hank Aaron all struck out. "To recap," he clowned into an imaginary microphone, "no runs, no hits, no Aryans."

HUEY "they used to call me 'nigger,' but now they'll have to call me 'Doctor Nigger'" NEWTON, Ph.D. (LF)

. . . has not had an easy life since certain hookers, pimps, and Alhambra water salesmen told an Oakland grand jury that he has a rifle for an arm. This is normally considered a compliment to any outfielder, but these shady underworld characters were assuming, correctly it turns out, that grand jury members would be ignorant of the metaphorical nature of much baseball language. Compounding his image problem is an open feud with center fielder Stalin, who, he feels, is drifting onto his turf for too many fly balls. Lately Doctor Nigger has been appearing in games surrounded by bodyguards. "I know I speak for all of us," he declares, "when I say that I'll beat his white ass if he comes over here again." Doctor N's defenders are rallying fans to his side with promises of Free Huey for all youngsters 14 and under accompanied by a parent.


. . . is a peppery guy whose command of street argot endears him to the younger fans born since the Kennedy (Teddy) assassination. In a dispute over a revolutionary banner in the left field bleachers, he once told umpire Augie Donatelli: "Chickens are coming home to roost and shit is coming out in the wash and things are getting clearer to people." The stunned Donatelli later told the sports editor of The Revolutionary Worker: "Bob Avakian is a man who shoots straight from the pseudo-hip." Avakian is mortally afraid of airplanes and knocks about the major league circuit on pokey Amtraks. Thus the concern of his followers about the "government railroad of Bob Avakian."


. . . is considered a moody intellectual by sportswriters, or "capitalist rumormongers," with whom he refuses to speak. But he receives high marks from the Commissioner's office for his application of Soviet science to the pollination of Astroturf. Even greater breakthroughs may be in store as his biological expertise fertilizes his newfound interest in physics. With breathless wonder he explores avenues of infecting "true democratic majorities" with baseball fever. "There's no time to lose," says Lysenko. "We must mobilize the masses (m) at the speed of light squared (c²) until they become pure energy (=E)."


. . . was consigned to a life of toil in the Albanian bush leagues until discovered by scouts of the American Marxist-Leninist Organizing Committee. Received nickname from routine of ritualized histrionics he goes through before every pitch to opposing batsmen. His secret of success lies in thinking of pitching as hurling thunderbolts at Chinese Revisionists who would diminish the strike zone by trading with runaway shops in Taiwan. Hoxha was once inspired to pitch a perfect game by the thought of Chairman Mao Zedong inventing the resin bag.


. . . has been doing a tour of bullpen duty ever since the time he was invited to sing the national anthem and instead ad-libbed a four-hour speech. Undaunted, he has recently lured to Havana the permanent headquarters of the Non-Aligned Umpires Conference.

[original contact information, 1980]: Surrealist Workers Party / P.O. Box 2267 / Berkeley, California 94702

[current contact info: P.O. Box 5013 / Eugene, Oregon 97405 / e-mail:]

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