Thursday, June 7, 2018

Poets in the crowd

I was traveling today, unable to post anything but some idle scraps from the phone. Never saw a minute of last night's game, so I asked for verses to explain.

Behold... from John M

We didn't expect much from Sonny
The guy with a head that is funny
He channeled Cy Young
And I coughed up a lung
Cheering, "He's well worth the money!"

But Toronto had their Cy as well
And our BAs were going to hell
When Aaron took over
And ended in clover
By ringing the ball like a bell

John Carlo stepped up to the plate
Lacking pressure, he can be just great
He lasered a shot
And went into a trot
And you thought that it must just be fate

The bullpen kept Blue Jays at bay
They floundered while our guys made hay
'Twas no doubt about it
We might as well flout it
These Yankees are doing OK.

From Doug K (to tune of "Penny Lane"

Sonny Grey, the pitcher, helped to win a baseball game
Attacked the plate, had good command, more strikes than balls.
In the 13th Judge cleared the wall.
and ended his shame...

It was nice to see John Carlo playing like he’s mad
it seems that Didi might again has found his stroke 
Although Sanchez is still a “moke’ 
We won anyway. 

Sonny Grey looks like he just turned it around.
But we've been here before and run aground. 
So, we'll see 
meanwhile back...

Gleybar Torres suffers from trying to do too much
He should stop swinging every time for the fence 
Also, Mueller should indict Mike Pence
I just had to say…

In other Yankee news it looks like Austin's spit the bit
It's likely that we get Torreyes back today, 
this doesn't mean that he'll get to play
he should get to stay. 

Sonny Grey looks like he just turned it around.
But we've been here before and run aground… 

Sonny Grey

From HoraceClarke66 (channeling Tennessee Ernie Ford)

You play thirteen frames and whattaya get?
Another win closer to a-playin' the Mets
Sonny put in eight and the pen did five
They shut down the Jays and that's no jive.

If you see us comin' you better get lost.
A lotta teams didn't and a lot got tossed.
One fist's Giancarlo, the other is Judge
They'll pound you down to a puddle of sludge.

They was born one mornin' in an' old wood crate
Picked up a bat and walked up to the plate.
Hit that ball into the upper deck
Left-a Cashman gaspin' 'Now what the heck?'

You play thirteen frames an' whattaya get?
Still a game behind Boston who we ain't caught yet.
Metsies don't you cross us cause we ain't got time,
We'll beat you down like some old French mime."

And finally from Alphonso...

It took too long
For Judge to swing

So after thirteen
We finally sing.

Great job, guys. Thanks for having my back.

And maybe we should do poetic write-ups every day...

1 comment:

John M said...

I'm getting all misty. Just excellent.