Yankees poetry: Stopping by third on an #RISPfail evening

What base this is, I'm sure I know;
My journey often ends here, though;
I shall not make the short trip home,
Back to the dugout I must go

We have a man on third once more,
The fans, they sense a chance to score;
Alas, their hopes again are dashed
Just like so many times before

Our OBP is out of sight!
But I shant score a run tonight,
As Swish and Grand hit lazy flies
and A-Rod takes a called third strike

A 10-game lead we couldn't keep,
and lo, we're now in trouble deep.
A season poised to go to sleep,
A season poised to go to sleep.



*- Note: #RISPfail is Twitter-speak for "Can't anyone here drive in a freakin' run??"