The Yankee Contracts Poem

by Hart Seely

Three more years of A-Rod,
Each, twenty million-plus.
Three more years of C.C.,
Blown tires on the bus.
Six more years of Ellsb’ry,
Just where did we go wrong?
And two more years of Beltran…
I will not live that long.

Two more years, Teixeira,
McCann, until ’18.
Gardner through the following year,
By then, I’ll have no spleen.
We’ll play no one at shortstop.
Our system’s hit the wall.
And two more years of Beltran…
Who cannot throw the ball.

Six more years, Tanaka.
Already, looking frail.
And Prado for another two.
By then, we’ll own Chris Sale.
We punted in the bidding,
And so jettisoned Cano.
For two more years of Beltran…
Dear God, please let me go!

Our Father, up in heaven,
Where contracts loom so large,
Two hundred million buys a boat
That steers just like a barge.
We’re dead throughout the order,
A slugger? No, not one!
With two more years of Beltran…
God, wake me when it’s done.

Hart Seely is custodian and ticket taker at the always-entertaining Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is … caught.

 


Published in Management, New York Yankees, Pure doggerel | Link to this poem | 4 Comments

The Yankee Contracts Poem: 4 Comments

  1. el duque wrote,

    I’m honored, as always.

    Three wins in a row over Chicago, baby! Three in a row!

  2. Stephen Jones wrote,

    Good grief! I just wish the doctor had delivered his diagnosis with a little sugar.

  3. James Finn Garner wrote,

    Wahoo! Start printing up those Wild Card shirts and hats!!

  4. Michael X. Ferraro wrote,

    this is Steinbrennervating. but in a good way. excellent work, even if there is no sanity clause.

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