chuckn98229
10-02-2004, 06:08 PM
Unloveable Losers Lament
By: C. Cassity
It started right after the last play was played
And a poor guy named Bartman was where blame was laid.
If only he hadn’t went after the ball
It would have been caught for an out, after all.
Instead Moises missed it and in quite a snit
He threw his glove down in a huge hissy fit.
The shortstop then bobbled a simple ground ball
And the floodgates were open and the fakers did fall.
Right then the din started and would never diminish
‘It wasn’t their fault that they just couldn’t finish’.
‘But wait ‘til next year and you folks will sure see’
‘They’ll win the world series as sure as can be’.
The media shills now inferred it was true
That Crusty and Corky and Carrie and crew
Should not have to play any game until autumn
‘There just is no need’ they implied in their columns.
But baseball said ‘NO’, the games must be played
And post-season contests will be earned not conveyed.
‘Then have it your way’, the morons would write
‘We’ll go all the way because it’s our right!’.
‘We own this whole town and the fans are so dense’
‘We can write what we want – without making sense’.
‘They’ll follow our lead and believe what we say’
‘We write mindless drivel – and for this we get pay!’.
The writers were sure not alone in this sham
The talking-head sportscasters supported the scam.
Day-in and day-out they would spew cubbie crap
And each flub fan loved being played for a sap.
‘The Urinal is oh such a great place to be’
‘We can cell phone our friends that we’re on the TV’.
‘And swill down the brew and start a few fights’
‘We’re just yuppie scum out enjoying the sites’.
This noise from the north was all that was heard
And no sportscaster dare utter a contrary word
All problems were either ignored or played down
This team, after all, would win baseball’s crown.
But the Cards were the ones that were playing good ball
And the morons would give them no credit at all.
And concerning the flubs they refused to disclose
That the emperor, indeed, was wearing no clothes.
By the month of July it began to be clear
That these flubs would assuredly not perservere.
As the concrete fell down from their urine-soaked shrine
And the redbirds continued to kick their behind
They lost their composure and began to melt down
Their on-field behaviour more like that of a clown.
Old Crusty refused to admonish his boys
Preferring instead to defend their dumb ploys.
By August the Cards had sewn-up the Division
So the moronic mantra now needed revision.
‘The Wild-Card is ours’ the idiots proclaimed
‘Because we deserve it’ their cry now became.
But the Giants and ‘Stros still had something to say
And as long as there was a game left to be played
They would ensure that the best team would win
And the losers go home as a bunch of has-beens
In September, without any cork - and no juice
The bunny-hop hot dog just couldn’t produce.
And the rest of the team really smelled-up the place
While the fans threw their garbage – oh, what a disgrace!
Cub-dumb kept flocking to see their team choke
Cause all season long they were just blowing smoke.
If it wasn’t so sad it would be quite amusing
To watch these poor jerks get a kick out of losing!
On October the second the verdict was rendered
The chokers and whiners would not be contenders.
Now who could they blame for the way that they played?
It couldn’t be their fault the grade was not made!
The umpires! The broadcasters! They were the reason!
Why this swell team didn’t quite make the post-season.
But if they would look in the mirror they’d see
The real reason why this just wasn’t to be.
So children remember that hype can’t win games
And cheaters and liars should not get acclaim.
That whiners will always find reasons to fail
And never look for the ways they can prevail.
That sportswriters often are idiots, too.
As well as the heads that you see on the tube.
So, don’t blindly follow the crowd to the shrine
You have better things you can do with your time.
By: C. Cassity
It started right after the last play was played
And a poor guy named Bartman was where blame was laid.
If only he hadn’t went after the ball
It would have been caught for an out, after all.
Instead Moises missed it and in quite a snit
He threw his glove down in a huge hissy fit.
The shortstop then bobbled a simple ground ball
And the floodgates were open and the fakers did fall.
Right then the din started and would never diminish
‘It wasn’t their fault that they just couldn’t finish’.
‘But wait ‘til next year and you folks will sure see’
‘They’ll win the world series as sure as can be’.
The media shills now inferred it was true
That Crusty and Corky and Carrie and crew
Should not have to play any game until autumn
‘There just is no need’ they implied in their columns.
But baseball said ‘NO’, the games must be played
And post-season contests will be earned not conveyed.
‘Then have it your way’, the morons would write
‘We’ll go all the way because it’s our right!’.
‘We own this whole town and the fans are so dense’
‘We can write what we want – without making sense’.
‘They’ll follow our lead and believe what we say’
‘We write mindless drivel – and for this we get pay!’.
The writers were sure not alone in this sham
The talking-head sportscasters supported the scam.
Day-in and day-out they would spew cubbie crap
And each flub fan loved being played for a sap.
‘The Urinal is oh such a great place to be’
‘We can cell phone our friends that we’re on the TV’.
‘And swill down the brew and start a few fights’
‘We’re just yuppie scum out enjoying the sites’.
This noise from the north was all that was heard
And no sportscaster dare utter a contrary word
All problems were either ignored or played down
This team, after all, would win baseball’s crown.
But the Cards were the ones that were playing good ball
And the morons would give them no credit at all.
And concerning the flubs they refused to disclose
That the emperor, indeed, was wearing no clothes.
By the month of July it began to be clear
That these flubs would assuredly not perservere.
As the concrete fell down from their urine-soaked shrine
And the redbirds continued to kick their behind
They lost their composure and began to melt down
Their on-field behaviour more like that of a clown.
Old Crusty refused to admonish his boys
Preferring instead to defend their dumb ploys.
By August the Cards had sewn-up the Division
So the moronic mantra now needed revision.
‘The Wild-Card is ours’ the idiots proclaimed
‘Because we deserve it’ their cry now became.
But the Giants and ‘Stros still had something to say
And as long as there was a game left to be played
They would ensure that the best team would win
And the losers go home as a bunch of has-beens
In September, without any cork - and no juice
The bunny-hop hot dog just couldn’t produce.
And the rest of the team really smelled-up the place
While the fans threw their garbage – oh, what a disgrace!
Cub-dumb kept flocking to see their team choke
Cause all season long they were just blowing smoke.
If it wasn’t so sad it would be quite amusing
To watch these poor jerks get a kick out of losing!
On October the second the verdict was rendered
The chokers and whiners would not be contenders.
Now who could they blame for the way that they played?
It couldn’t be their fault the grade was not made!
The umpires! The broadcasters! They were the reason!
Why this swell team didn’t quite make the post-season.
But if they would look in the mirror they’d see
The real reason why this just wasn’t to be.
So children remember that hype can’t win games
And cheaters and liars should not get acclaim.
That whiners will always find reasons to fail
And never look for the ways they can prevail.
That sportswriters often are idiots, too.
As well as the heads that you see on the tube.
So, don’t blindly follow the crowd to the shrine
You have better things you can do with your time.