ACT I, SCENE I. February. In a field. Thunder and lightning. RIZZUTO: Single, double; bullpen trouble.
Owner burn and pitcher bubble.
Though great'st by far his minions be,
They're not great'st by far, enough, for he.
What huckl'berries these mortals be!
YOGI: 'Tis deja vu -- again, I see.
Enter George, holding ball.
GEORGE: O'er my hearth doth hang the bejeweled broom of series swept.
Yet the stone floor mocks surly 'neath a new season's dirt.
O, budget: thou art paid to brutish beasts!
O, Bernie! O, Jeter! O, Rivera! O'Neill!
And Good David Wells! The hurler burly! Paw of south!
Thane of ale and team!
ALL: Maker of the perfect game!
GEORGE: Ye hath restored the crown to its rightful throne.
Alas, one soul whose yonder curveball breaks
Holds my heart in his split-fingered grip.
O, Roger Clemens, rocket of northern skies domed.
No owner hath lesser need for thee, and yet:
This is the A.L. East, and Roger is the Cy Young.
RIZZUTO: Holy cow! His heart's imprison'd!
YOGI: To be, it is. To b'not, it isn't.
ACT II, SCENE III. In the owner's box. Enter Ghost.
GEORGE: Angels and ministers of security, defend me!
What botch of nature doth appear before me?
GHOST: I am the spirit of ye managers fired.
I bring news sure to screaming headlines capture.
To-night, the Jays tender Clemens to the bidder high.
His breast shall be pinstriped before the cock crows.
But the ransom shall cut sharper than an agent's tooth:
To-night, David Wells shall from thy castle be snatched,
And ye shall be the robber.
GEORGE: Nay! That the heart of my rotation I would sell?
'Tis a trade rumor told by an idiot, signifying nothing.
True, Clemens in my coat could capture six-and-twenty.
But to peddle dear David; aye, there's the rub.
'Tis nobler in the mind to keep him.
GHOST: Owner, is not your summer of discontent foreseen?
Your staff shall wilt 'neath the gravity of innings hurled.
Put a pennant in thy purse.
Your Wells has lost his lean and hungry look.
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.
Come May, he will be as full of quarrel and offense
As old Zimmer's ulcer.
Put a pennant in thy purse.
Clemens' hard heaves still bloody his receiver's leathered palm.
He painteth corners and maketh music of men's chins.
Lash Wells to a lesser pair, and etch their travel tickets,
To-ronto, and To-ronto, and To-ronto.
Put a pennant in thy purse.
Ghost exits.
GEORGE: Wine of victory: Must thou always roil from rott'd fruit?
Cashman, quickly! Screw your courage to the trading-place!
ACT V, SCENE VIII. Opening Day. In a dugout.
RIZZUTO: The unkind'st cut doth poorly sells.
YOGI: All is not well that endeth Wells. . . .
GEORGE: O, what a rogue and peasant owner I am!
Betrayal: thou art known to me as wife.
George points a dagger to his heart.
Goodbye, good team. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Cashman enters.
CASHMAN: My liege! Saint Louis whispers dangerous truths into my ear.
McGwire, the Ruthian knight, doth be for sale.
George throws away the dagger.
GEORGE: Hark, hark, the Mark!
Cashman, quickly! Send Tino Martinez to the block.
Cut the deal!
CASHMAN: Et Tino, boss?
GEORGE: A row of murderers I shall have. O, what teams may come!
RIZZUTO: Unb'lievable! What? A minute, wait!
L'mme get this in, 'fore 'tis too late.
Get well, Ophelia, in Albany.
Great work.
ReplyDeleteNow dig further back in the archives and find out what possessed him to trade Fred McGriff for Dale Murray.