by Sid Yiddish
Say hey, Willie! Say hey!
Your god-boy Barry is a true filly when it comes to being the next king of swat,
But it won’t matter much, ‘coz he lost his touch, once he started fillin’ up on THE JUICE.
Just like Sammy Sosa and young Mark McGwire, whose Louisvilles were on fire in that great summer of ’98, setting’ new swat records, fillin’ up on THE JUICE.
But THE JUICE is a noose and it only gets tighter, makes the swinger a
singer all the way to the bank, year after year after year, which is until THE JUICE starts to fizz
And the smacking goes to intermittent rain delays down on the field that so many play-by-play color-men describe as “dismal.”
But it’s no matter, Willie, for this boy is your pride and joy, and his greatness will never cause you fatigue.
Still.
Eyebrows will be raised across the league,
The young and the old will debate.
Ruth vs. Aaron, vs. Bonds vs. Mantle vs. Gehrig vs. Sosa vs. McGwire vs. A-Rod vs. any other future famer that is still left intact after they’ve had THE JUICE.
All seems so iffy if you ask me (but you don’t).
So.
Say hey, Willie! Say hey!
There will come the day when THE JUICE will dry up and blow away and all those swingers will age prematurely and become arthritic cripples and bent and lame in their retirement,
Just like you did sadly, dear Willie,
Just like you, without THE JUICE.
Posted 10/17/07
Except that Willie not only took speed, but distributed it in the clubhouse.