by James Finn Garner
Congratulations, Bosox! You are the new champeens.
Two rings in the Aughts you won, and two more in the teens.
With Cora in the dugout, Dombrowski counting beans,
Benintendi, Betts and Bradley busting dance routines,
The gold standard, that’s you now, the envy of other teams.
When the Flogging Molly stops, consider what that means:
So long against your rival, venting boozy spleens,
You’ve pulled a switcheroo only seen in fever dreams.
Long gone the Lovable Losers, you’ve lost your cuddly sheen.
You’ve become the dreaded Yankees now, with chowder and baked beans.