by Raphael Badagliacca
Here’s what I say
Crime doesn’t always pay
Harper stole a base
and Murphy’s hot bat
All in the same play
Durocher tells this story
How Mays hit a ball
High up off the wall
But stopped at first
And watched the ball fall
So McCovey who hit next
Could hit one over the wall
by Ember Nickel
I pity the Nats fans who bailed
When the strength of an early lead failed.
If I’m no mistaker,
Dusty’s still a half-baker,
And the city’s hopes all lie de-railed.
By Hilary Barta
Don’t bore us with numbers or stats
Or stories of goats and black cats
Nix chapter and verse
About crap like “the curse”–
Just bring on the Dodgers or Nats.
by James Finn Garner
Before the Fall gets underway,
Let us doff our caps and say
Goodbye to those who’ll junk their cleats,
Leave the park and walk the streets.
Super-versatile Angel Chone
Will now be the utility man at home.
Grant Balfour, hothead Aussie,
Can only fume when his wife gets bossy.
Phil Humber’s vaunted perfect game
Was his sole stat worth noting (such a shame).
The Prince has trouble with his neck–
He’ll inspire no more fear on-deck.
Tex and A-Rod will leave the Yanks
And all their fans will mumble thanks,
While Raf Soriano has called an end
To tell war stories, a fine fireman.
But let’s not forget the other guys,
Young tyros once, with starry eyes,
Who gave their all but somehow missed
The general manager’s call-up list.
They’re just as key to the game as any
Adam LaRoche or Brad Penny.
Talent, drive and dreams they bid,
Just like us when we were kids.