By el seusse
In the dead of December, the town of N.Y.
He was surfing the Internet site, IT IS HIGH,
He was knee deep in twitters, way late in the night,
When Cashman the G.M. said, “Something’s not right!”
He heard a small voice, like the squeak of a squawk.
“It’s Santana!” it said. “He has gone on the block!”
Then he heard it again, just a tiny sad groan,
Like some gas from the cheeks of Sir Sidney Ponson,
He untwittered his twitters and picked up the phone.
Soon, he growled with the harshness of Tony Soprano,
“Tell the Twins we will offer them Carl Pavano!
“We must get out in front, not be part of the chorus,
“They must give us Santana, or deal with Scott Boras.
“We’ll throw in Chris Britton, and maybe Nick Green.
“You think they’d be willing to take Colter Bean?”
“No way,” came a voice, who had just heard the news.
It was George’s son Hank, who said, “They want Phil Hughes.
“Plus our golden boy Joba and Melky Cabrera.
“They claim with Santana, we’ll launch a new era.
“With Johann in pinstripes, more pennants will flow,
“We’ll tell Theo Epstein just where he can go.”
Then the full Yankee brain trust gave out several yelps,
And the Boss in the corner cried, “LET’S GET KEN PHELPS!”
Then again came the squeak; Cashman barely could hear it.
“Talk louder!” he cried, with his better ear near it.
And a tiny voice flowed from the head of a pin,
Like the ones in his head when Stick Michael got in.
“Hey, Cash,” it began, in a tone low and grey,
“Phil Hughes is a prospect; don’t trade him away!
“Though most of our prospects have proved to be lemons.
“He’s the next Sudden Sam, he’s the next Roger Clemens.
“If you trade Philip Hughes, you will live to regret,
“The world will brand you as the next Dan Duquette.”
“Dear God!” Cashman said. “I believe in you, Muse!
“I’ll be tarred and be feathered for trading Phil Hughes.
“We’ll keep our young pitchers, regardless of strife,
“We’ve got 10 in Trenton, nine under the knife.
“By April this season, we will have Ian Kennedy,
“Bats up against him are like Colmes against Hannity.
“And don’t forget Melky; on him we can’t punt,
“Maybe this is the year when he learns how to bunt!
“We cannot trade these kids for a bum like Santana!”
And the Boss in the corner cried, “LET’S GET FRANK TANANA!”
But again Hank cried, “TRADE THEM!” in a voice hard and curt.
And he added, “These prospects, they always are hurt.
“Trade for D.H.s, some big bats to wield!
“Do you think that Giambi could play center field?”
“No, I won’t,” hollered Cashman. “I won’t! I will not!
“We must stick with the youngsters, they’re all that we’ve got!
“Whatever we trade them for, it’s just too little,
“’Cause a prospect’s a prospect, no matter how brittle!”
And the Boss in the corner cried, “LET’S GET FLOYD LITTLE!”
While Cashman stood firm with his honed nerves of steel,
For a pile of young players, the Mets cut the deal.
And when spring finally came in the year of ‘08,
The lean switch-hitting Melky had put on some weight.
And Ian, the starter, encountered great hell,
Though he’d say in the clubhouse, “I think I pitched well.”
And poor Philip Hughes, despite his tall frame,
Would go through the season and win not one game.
Poor Cashman was beaten, he said not a word,
The season was over, the Yanks finished third.
But in the next winter, from camp came the news,
That Ian was pitching, and so was Phil Hughes!
And Melky was playing, and even young Brackman,
In the film on his life, he’d be played by Gene Hackman!
Because Cashman let his young players to mend,
The Yankees next winter had big bucks to spend.
So he traveled out west and fell on bended knee,
And flirted and romanced the Mrs. C.C.
Then managed to purchase the best one could get,
Like Sure Thing Teixiera! Iron A.J. Burnet!
And all of those deals happend due to the Muse,
That told Cashman he better not peddle Phil Hughes.
And so Hank and the Yanks would win later than sooner,
And the Boss in the corner yelled, “LET’S GET JAY BUHNER!”
FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Monday, January 19, 2009
By el seusse