Dear Cardinals: A plea, in poetry
’Tis the day before judgment, the eve of Game 6,
And Cards fans—let’s face it—are pooping out bricks.
Though spirits are hopeful in downtown St. Lou,
It’s tough to ignore the profound déjà vu
Of watching a three-to-one lead dissipate
To a high-flying team from a westerly state.
Was yesterday’s hurler, in fact, Barry Zito
Dressed up as Zack Greinke and gone incognito?
When A-Gon’s two round-trippers brought down the house,
Did Pablo the Panda become Mickey Mouse?
And what of the baffling moves by Matheny
To let the LA crew escape like Houdini?
No, no, it can’t be! This is 2013
And our hopes didn’t perish in Chavez Ravine;
The Cards have two chances to get back on track
And spare us the pain of a futile flashback.
Now, Yadi! Now, Adams! Now, Carlos Martinez!
On, Beltran! On, Waino! On, matching Molinas!
Don’t GIDP, and avoid the TOOTBLAN;
Restore your RISP magic, and win this for Stan!
A Carpenter double, a Holliday bomb,
A gem from young Wacha (I could be his mom),
A wild pitch from Marmol, an error by Skip
Would all help the Cards book a World Series trip….
An unlikely hero could seal the Birds’ fate!
A squirrel could show up and run past home plate!
A ball could get lost inside Wilson’s gross beard!
Who knows what will happen? October is weird,
But one thing’s for sure: The Cards mustn’t show fear
If they don’t want the Dodgers to pee in their beer.
Let’s rise to the challenge of Kershaw and Puig
And take back the crown of the National League!
(Oh, hey, guys—no pressure, but just so you know this,
I THINK I WILL JUMP OFF A CLIFF IF YOU BLOW THIS.)