By Brian Michaels
He had a great pedigree, this Sweet Lou,
But suddenly, his mood has turned to blue.
His payroll was bulging but his victories few.
An inquisitor named Castle asked what was askew.
Sweet Lou shot back, “What kind of baseball play you?”
Soon there was nothing more, and Lou was through.
Published in Chicago Cubs, Management, Pure doggerel | Link to this poem | No Comments