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Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Bunt the First Two Mar 31 2011 08:32 AM

Would you send these brave men into battle without tribute?! I would think not! And yet, I see here ambiguity persisting about the pronunciation of our rookie star! Are we not poets?! So get your jive on and scribble your rousing anthem in praise of... Pedro Beato Carlos Beltran Blaine Boyer Taylor Buchholz Tim Byrdak Chris Capuano D.J. Carrasco Ike Davis R.A. Dickey Lucas Duda Brad Emaus Daniel Murphy Scott Hairston Willie Harris Chin-lung Hu Mike Nickeas Jon Niese Angel Pagan Bobby Parnell Mike Pelfrey Jose Reyes Francisco Rodriguez Josh Thole David Wright Chris Young. Such men as these deserve no less. It's easy. And I'll begin. Ode to Pedro Beato Beato! Beato! You ask me what he's gotto? Stuff that's making Pujols flail Like Frank Catalanotto Beato! Beato! Girls praying at the grotto "Don't let my daddy face him, Lord 'Cuz batters can't do squatto" He's warming in the bullpen He's not there to grow toma(h)to Echoes sound when he warms up "Beato! -ato! -ato!" Beato! Beato! The Mets have won the Lotto Just don't pronounce his last name wrong Our hero's called "Bay-AH-to!"

Bunt the First Two Mar 31 2011 09:46 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Ode to Chris Young Through Princeton's halls, his name is sung The smartest Met of all: Chris Young To meet the man, I climb a rung The tallest Met of all: Chris Young The pitches from his awesome frame The wisdom from his tongue Of diamond and of hardwood fame The man they call Chris Young Of Jackie's fight, of freedom sprung The thesis of our Met: Chris Young Two years of pain, the elbow stung The burden of our Met: Chris Young Let foes all cry before the name Let pennants soon be hung The master of the scoreless frame The man they call Chris Young

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 09:48 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Last night a DJ saved my mind! We had two men on, Terry waved the baton, and in jogged he Pelf had grown unsteady, requiring a salve Hey, 77's got a logo on his calf! Just one well-placed ball, the batter looked small, and up popped he Last night a DJ saved my behind! Our Brave starter was scratched, so we needed a dash of Carrasco Look at the way his forkball bends McCann whiffs, Chipper shits his Depends The slider's flight makes with more bite than a spicy churrasco Last night a DJ saved my game! His weird forearm dangles, make angles almost Pythagorean Snuffing out a burgeoning rally Putting "shh" in old "Ashburn Alley" Turn Citzens' Bank into the Broad Street Hit Mausoleum Last night a DJ saved my life! From Leach to D-Oliver, we like a solider swingman So here's hoping you, dear mound doctor Make your fortune like Kuo and not Proctor Turning latter-day home run king into badder-day Kingman

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 11:09 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster Edited 4 time(s), most recently on Mar 31 2011 11:41 AM

On a foggy, dense night in the autumn of ol' 86 A night that in easterly precincts was pregnant with meaning Birthed a strapping young pup who fractured the air with his kicks And whose powerful whip of an arm was most sinis'trly leaning Yes, he was born in Lima But even that young, he seem'd a Ornery Boy of Defiance Straight from schoolbooks, his strong left arm led to a fat contract And he was pressed into service by a far-off urbanite group As his frame stretched tighter, his fastball grew tricky, in fact And his breaking ball started to break with a more cruel swoop Yes, he retired opposing bat-fiends From St. Lucie to sweet New Orleans This hatchet-nosed Boy of Defiance After a fall taste, he stepped in for Ol' Brokedown Ollie Tearing through those Bucs and Cards like an intemp'rate gambler Then stretching to cover at first proved the gravest of folly As he tore through his tendon like an ill-stepping rambler Yes, he may have been majorly set back But he'd sure as hell majorly get back To HIS mound, the Boy of Defiance Healed, he impressed in the spring of 'ten with dips and swerves And the boss thought him ready to swipe major-league hitters' hits Then on one crisp June night, he rained cutters and curves The most litigious of altar boys never gave Padres such fits Yes, he slowed quite a bit in the fall But still you can see, overall He proved strong, did this Boy of Defiance Now he throws in the shadows, no longer do doctors eye him To see if his repair-ed arm will shudder or twitch The coaches, oh, man, do they know, and they do buy him When he says with a wrinkle of nose, "Sir, I'm ready to pitch." Yes, he'll take a tight game in his hands Without drip increase from his sweat glands And still answer a call from the stands-- A silly prank yell from the fans-- With a calm, steady tone and the voice of a man "Hawkman? No, Ma'am. I'm the Man from Defiance."

Edgy DC Mar 31 2011 11:11 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr wrote: Last night a DJ saved my mind! We had two men on, Terry waved the baton, and in jogged he Pelf had grown unsteady, requiring a salve Hey, 77's got a logo on his calf! Just one well-placed ball, the batter looked small, and up popped he Last night a DJ saved my behind! Our Brave starter was scratched, so we needed a dash of Carrasco Look at the way his forkball bends McCann whiffs, Chipper shits his Depends The slider's flight makes with more bite than a spicy churrasco Last night a DJ saved my game! His weird forearm dangles, make angles almost Pythagorean Snuffing out a burgeoning rally Putting "shh" in old "Ashburn Alley" Turn Citzens' Bank into the Broad Street Hit Mausoleum Last night a DJ saved my life! From Leach to D-Oliver, we like a solider swingman So here's hoping you, dear mound doctor Make your fortune like Kuo and not Proctor Turning latter-day home run king into badder-day Kingman Going for the old ABBA scheme. Nice. Very Shakespearean.

Edgy DC Mar 31 2011 11:13 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

The most litigious of altar boys never gave Padres such fits And... print.

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 11:31 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Stank you very much. EEK! so much depends upon a redhead rule five pick blessed with plate selectivity beside the ike davis

Ashie62 Mar 31 2011 01:34 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

This thread reeks of the MFY's and gayness.

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 01:38 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

MFYs? I don't get it. And yes, Opening Day is a time to be gay. Oh, you mean homosexual. In a bad way. Why don't you just say "fag," then? It gets your meaning across clearer. Sorta. 'Cause I still have no idea what you mean.

Edgy DC Mar 31 2011 02:19 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Ten thousand miles away from home, he does all he can do Yet few have come for cheering at the play of Chin-lung Hu Amid the talk of ope'ning day, of Pelfrey, Wright, and 'Pon It's easy here to overlook the small man from Taiwan Oh, forgive them if they're cynical, for Mets fans can be thus "Nothing 'gainst the Asians, but they tend to suck for us" They half expect in three weeks time, he'll play for Buffalo Hernandez will be swapped for him, 'cuz that's how these things go But in the New York press corps is an Asian Times reporter She's comes to all the briefings and photographers escort her She's quiet and she's wide-eyed, and folks hardly know she's there Then snicker when she asks them, "Any Asian Mets this year?" How cruelly dismissed is our reporter from the Times As if her wish for Asian Mets was great among all crimes How cruelly dismissed is our new shortstop from Taiwan As if all backup infield guys by should only be named 'Juan' Lost 'neath the stadium he wanders, "Mets" scrawled cross his chest Our reporter comes the other way, her press pass on her breast If e'er a song of joy was writ by Hammerstein and Rogers Such did fill her when she spied the new guy from the Dodgers "Who?" our journalist then asked, in Mandarin Chinese ("Who have the gods sent to me now in hours such as these?") "My name is Hu," was his reply, "I thought I was alone" "But here I look upon the kindest face I've ever known" "So you're a Met!" she almost cried, but caught herself and blushed It was too late, and Chin-Lung's face, it also grew quite flushed "Long have I hoped to see you; Igarashi gives me pause" "I've sought a Met that might at last advance the Asian cause" "Young lady," Hu said, "I know not of the cause that you promote" "But I pray that the bat I swing will cause your hopes to float" "For never did I play for such a heart as I behold" "Never did I write" she said, "of knights in armour gold" And when his breath returned to him, he asked if she would dine "Both this night, and the next" she said, "and ever down the line" "If you would be my champion, I'll be your true beilever" "But tonight I sit" he said (for he could not deceive her) "But soon the Mets will call and find my bat has found new strength" "My feet have found new swiftness and my throws have found new length" "And soon this league will fall before my skills and my desire" "And soon this league will know of all the passion you inspire" Their hands they touched; they parted there in that Miami tunnel He attacked the pre-game drills with all the focus of a funnel But sit, he did; the manager called not his name nor number Hu wondered, was she but a dream born in some pre-game slumber And as the ballpark's lights went out, he dressed in lonely sorrow "Will it be as always when I sit again tomorrow?" The first to come and last to leave the park once called Joe Robbie But then he saw her silhouette across the hotel lobby "We had a date," she said, "I have been waiting since the game" "I'm just a man," he spake in shame; "They scarcely know my name" She whispered then again those words; he knew he'd never leave her "If you would be my champion, I'll be your true beilever"

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 02:25 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Something for the ladies? (To be fair, "they" do kinda suck for us.)

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Mar 31 2011 03:17 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

(With apologies to Maya Angelou.) Power pitchers wonder, what's my game? I'm not lithe or built to Sabathia's frame But when I start to tell them, They think I'm "spitting game." (As the young people say, when hearts they enflame) I say, It's in the hang of my arm The sneer of my lips, The warmth of my charm, The soft fingertips. I'm a Dickey Phenomenally. Phenomenal Dickey, That's me. I walk onto a mound Just like the Marlb'ro Man, In front of 40,000 screaming fans. And to a man, man, The hitters fan or Fall down on their cans. Then the Dans and Johans buzz around me, Blue and orange honey bees. I say, It's my beard (like a bear), My ball's flutter (like birds), My sounding, resounding Mul-ti-syl-la-bic words. I'm a Dickey Phenomenally. Phenomenal Dickey, That's me. Mets fans wander, wonder What they see in me. They rhyme, talk shop They clip and Photoshop My head on a Simpsons body. When I throw for you, though, It's fairly easy to see. I say, It's my knuckler, sucker That puts pitch in your tent, The bad mothermother, The un-ligament. I'm a Dickey Phenomenally. Phenomenal Dickey, That's me. Now you understand Why I make you burst with glee. It's not cash, wild panache Or flashing 93. When you see me, see You really see thee, see? I say, It's in the twist of my wrist, The turn of my phrase, The prospect that I Might not HAVE a decline phase. 'Cause I'm a Dickey Phenomenally. Phenomenal Dickey, That's me.

Edgy DC Mar 31 2011 05:55 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Ashie62 wrote: This thread reeks of the MFY's and gayness. I thought I was at least bi-sexual. Come on, the tragedy is that we're all in one closet or another. Open your sweet Metly heart and re-read. There's some good work here.

John Cougar Lunchbucket Mar 31 2011 06:00 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

It's great, totally in another league from what I can contribute.

Ashie62 Mar 31 2011 07:49 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster Edited 1 time(s), most recently on Mar 31 2011 08:37 PM

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr wrote: MFYs? I don't get it. And yes, Opening Day is a time to be gay. Oh, you mean homosexual. In a bad way. Why don't you just say "fag," then? It gets your meaning across clearer. Sorta. 'Cause I still have no idea what you mean. I wish thinking of the bleacher creatures at MFY. Gay has be used many many times in our threads, Not that there is anything wrong with it...

Fman99 Mar 31 2011 08:00 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

A little gayness never hurt anyone. Except maybe in their mouths and/or assholes.

Vic Sage Apr 01 2011 11:05 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Stopping By Citifield on Snowy Afternoon Whose team this is I think I know, His total worth is less now though. He will not see me stopping there, So long as Fred is such a `mo. My little kids think i'm unfair To deprive them so of Metly fare They don't get why, to so forsake Our storied Mets, beyond compare. They want their dogs and shake shack shake And so ask if there is some mistake. My shuttered eyes can only weep Of Madoff's scheme... that fraud, that fake. My team's fate is dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And so we go, despite the creeps, And so we go, while Citi sleeps.

TheOldMole Apr 01 2011 02:25 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

How do you pronounce Nickeas?

Edgy DC Apr 01 2011 02:59 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

Ni-KAY-us.

TheOldMole Apr 01 2011 03:59 PM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM ST. LUCIE TO CITI FIELD They sprang to the infield, Ike Davis and more; With Reyes and Emaus and Wright, there were four; And Murphy and Hu, if one faltered his task, While Thole, Josh Thole, stood back of the mask; No Ronny Paulino, but that won't delay us, Our catching reserve's in the hands of Nickeas. And then to the outfield, with no Jason Bay, But he's to return—if not April, then May; So in left Willie Harris, a welcome intruder, And a promising homegrown, our own Lucas Duda; No need for contention—they'll both keep the pace, As they bring the good news of our Mets in first place. A center field stalwart when last year began, Now new-brimming with health, Mr. Right Field Beltran; At the far reach of center, and no longer strange'll Be one with the wingspan and speed of an Angel; If we've need of a backup, we're fortunate there's one Who'll hit the ball hard, and his surname is Hairston. As spring training ends, and the season draws near, Who stands 'stride the mound? Why, that vision is clear: He's tall as a steeple, and sound as a belfry, Right now he's our ace – you remember Mike Pelfrey. With a fastball like lightning all covered with grease, Coming into his own, Mr. Jonathan Niese; And his knuckleball may not go plateward so quickly, But its flutter will make batters mutter, “Damn Dickey!” And if that's not enough, let them reckon with this, We have two pitchers more, both new, both named Chris, But the one for the other will ne'er be mistook, Because one is from Princeton, the other from Duke. As we enter the fray, no ace named Santana, Maybe May, June, July – maybe even manana. He may come back hot, and he may come back colder-- Depends on the scalpels that probed in his shoulder. But finally, our venture needs the services of men Who'll come streaming to the rescue, like bulls out of pen. Now Bucholz and Beato are two who've got our back, Carrasco and Blane Boyer, and even Tim Byrdak, Parnell (and maybe Isringhausen), horses brightly shod. All leading to the closing note, the man they call K-Rod. And though some may look in vain for wit or wisdom in this ditty, They still must stand a glass for he who brought the news to Citi.

LeiterWagnerFasterStrongr Apr 04 2011 10:14 AM Re: Odes to Our Opening Day Roster

A worried old man grips a rail As he watches that last cutter's contrail Bobby already behind him, the scowlin' front of him burns Got white hair, from here to fore Watching this'll only give him more The arms and legs get whirling, then his stomach churns Standing on the dugout steps with nothing else to choose But he uses this pill too much, and all hell will break loose First a mean change-up, and the batter froze Then a one-out walk, and a clamor rose The light was on for a while, but now... sorry, we're closed This place used to feel like home to me I’m in the wrong town, got no family Just a lady I used to love, our kids, and her old man too Gonna take dancing lessons, dance to forget Try somethin' different, get my feet wet Gotta do something, t'get my mind off the hiss and the boo People pay to yell strange things at you "Hey, I'm 60, why don't you punch ME too!" My feet are aching from the path I chose Maybe I should text her a "Sorry" rose My ears they used to be open, now... sorry, we're closed I hurt pretty easy, I just don’t show it This replica Dykstra got some bruises below it You don't watch Ayala for a month without growing some scars Used to root for Raj, yell for Jess from the stands Clapped for Randall K so hard, it chapped my hands Now, the endgame comes, and my eye's seein' stars He can whiff dozens of the NL's best Still, I look at his shirt, and all I see is vest Time it was, the ninth came, and I rose Without another beer or another dose My eyes used to be open; now, sorry... we're closed