by Sid Yiddish
“Baaah-ter up,” it bawls.
The old goat rises from its pen.
It’s got work to do before the clock strikes half past 10.
Time to prepare itself, for the annual sacrificial legend.
Just before the onslaught of the newly christened season of ballplayers checking themselves out and each other and the fans and the sports media doing the constant scrutinizing and studying to see if they match up just right.
“For my job, I admit it’s harder, and I get told often that I should quit while I’m ahead, but no, not quite yet.
Those Cubs will never win
As long as I’m alive!
“So here’s a toast to the Cubs,
To Chicago’s finest boys in blue,
(Not the cops, mind you).
May you go through another 162 games loveless and hopeless, till you slip away like so many fantasies of years gone by.
Don’t cry, sweet Chicago, don’t cry!”
For more on Sid Yiddish’s poetry, music and performances, check out his My Space page.
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