by R.J. Lesch
The season is a marathon and not
. a sprint, they say. So one would think we’d boast
we’ve played a hundred sixty two, and got
. a champion — the team who won the most.
But that’s not how it works, The season just
. helps narrow down from thirty teams to ten.
The biggest winner still could be a bust.
. A wild card who catches fire just when
the leaves turn brown, can grasp the Series ring,
. While teams who’ve led all year don’t get a thing.
R.J. Lesch is a SABR member, White Sox fan, fencing instructor and proud holder of a day job (we’re still checking up on that last one).
Published in Pure doggerel, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments