by HoraceClarke66
With apologies to Carly Simon
You walked into the bullpen
Eight minutes before game time.
Your cap strategically cocked above one eye
You said your fastball was 99.
You had one eye on your catcher and
You missed his signs all night,
And all the Sox dreamed that you’d stay in longer
You’d stay in longer…
You’re so strange
You probably think you’re still a good pitcher.
You’re so strange
Your madness gets richer and richer.
Well, you had us back in the first half
When your stuff was lights out.
We said you would win your Cy Young soon
Of your future there was no doubt.
But your fastball straightened out over the plate
Your breaking stuff fell all about.
Our Series dreams were just clouds in our coffee
Clouds in our coffee…
You threw real hard just like a real ace
And you had all of the poses down.
But in the end you couldn’t go four innings
You looked like quite a clown.
Well you’re where you should be all the time
Except when it’s time to go.
Then you look just like Sonny
Or another complete schmo
Another complete schmo…
You’re so strange
You’ve never even heard of Ron Darling
You’re so strange
I’d even trade your ass for old Starlin’…
Trade your ass for old Starlin’…
Originally appeared in the Yankee-centric blog, It is High, It is Far, It is….caught.