Happy Thanksgiving, everybody

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Book of Joe: Song of Rocket

And in the year 2000, the great bringer of cheese, Roger Clemens, returned to the tiny village of Boston, seeking old friends.

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But across its pagan tabernacles, those who once exalted Roger now brought hurtful chants about his plumpness and etched crude remarks onto signs and loincloths.
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Stricken with woe, the beefy hurler appeared unto Joe and spake:
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“Hear me, o, wise and decent Joe!
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“Why doth my former lovers now so loathe me? How doth my robust physique come to gird such geysers of venom and spleen?”
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Joe placed his calm hand on the pitcher’s abundant shoulder and declared:
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“Verily, o, Rocket! Thou art truly King of Pitchers.
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“Let no arrows of poison ink draw tight the strings of thy magnificent hams. Their foul showers of spittle shalt never include the spice of truly deserved bile.
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“They loathe not you, o, Rocket, but the pinstriped linens that hug your ample buttocks.
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“They loathe not you, o, Rocket, but the bareness of their fingers, which hath never felt the warmth of championship ring.
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“Go forth, King of Pitchers, with music of chin!
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“Go forth, o, Rocket, and hurl!”
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But on that day, Roger did not go forth with music of chin or stuff of filth.
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Verily! He serveth balls of gopher.
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And he suffered smiting from the corked and angry bats of his tormentors.
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And he yielded five earned runs in just two innings.
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And the House of George was routed.
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And the King of Pitchers collapsed into a bottomless despair.
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Presently, the form of Joe appeared and spake:
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“Hear me, o, Rocket!
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“Do not drown thyself in mead or seek thy false salvation of Krispee Kreme.
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“Long ago, the House of George foresaw a calamity such as this. At the cost of a hundred Marlins, the Owner hath secured El Duque, the exiled Cuban prince, to hurl on the morrow.
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“Behind El Duque, this defeat shall be avenged! The Bostonites shall be vanquished.
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“This I do decree!”
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And so it came to pass.

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Behind El Duque, the Yanks cast out the Bostonites, four games to one, to secure the Kingdom of the American League.
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And they went on to capture the Series of the World.
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And they went on to frolic on flatbed trucks along the Canyon of Heroes through a glorious deluge of tickertape and feminine undergarments.
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And Roger went on to hurl more seasons for the House of George, and the House of Houston.
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And in his final appearance in Boston, his accusers stood to adore him as the true King of Pitchers.
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But by then, their hatreds had been softened by the warmth of Championship rings.

3 comments:

Buhner's Ghost said...

Rocket's retirement could free up the funds necessary to re-sign free agent Jeff Weaver to take his place in the Yankee rotation.

dadlak said...

“Do not drown thyself in mead or seek thy false salvation of Krispee Kreme."

Love it!

Daniel Bard said...

Gets better every time I read it