By Jim Siergey
When wintry winds cause batsmen
All to whiff and to wail,
They’re laughed off by a moundsman
Whose name is Rich Gale.
While batters may wish it were dry
And comfortably warm,
The winds won’t bother a Davis
With a first name like Storm.
When the field becomes mired
In a swampy wet bog
And the sky is grayed o’er,
Make the call to Josh Fogg.
If the weather gets so bad
Fans all need to take cover,
You need a staff with Jim Coates
And, of course, Gary Glover.
how cool the poem is, it’s really impressive