"A Visit from St. Mikolas
(and the Ghosts of the Baseball Season Past)"
’Twas the night before Christmas, and all around Twitter
Some Cards fans were hopeful, while others were bitter:
The Redbirds went meekly two years in a row,
So pressure was mounting on Girsch and on Mo
To beef up the roster and fix the rotation
In hopes that they’d dodge a third year of stagnation.
The ’17 team wasn’t awful, per se,
But they hardly lived up to The Cardinal Way—
The guys began squabbling way back in spring training
With Carpenter leading the choir of complaining,
And Reyes’s loss was another low point
(That guy’s always struggling with some kind of joint).
The Cards edged the Cubbies to open the year,
But soon the fans started to cry in their beer.
The offense was weaker than watered-down tea
(Too bad their best hitter was in Tennessee!),
And when the sad batters awoke from their stupors,
They evened things up with their baserunning bloopers—
We longed for the old days of Jose Oquendo,
When “scoring from third” wasn’t just innuendo.
The pitchers were facing their own strife and woe,
From Cecil to Siegrist to Seung-Hwan “Uh-” Oh;
They blew up and melted much like a volcano,
None more than the much-loved but rickety Waino.
(Matheny stuck with him, no matter how ghastly—
That dude is as loyal as Rick Freaking Astley.)
Matt Bowman pitched four thousand innings, as ever,
And injury forced us to say “There Goes Trevor.”
The defense was comically wretched: Big City
Did time in left field as the world watched in pity,
The infielders bungled the easiest plays,
The outfielders choked on cut-offs and relays,
Till even Mike Shannon was chock-full of rage
And called them all out in an on-air rampage.
Oh, sure, there were bright spots—deJong, Tommy Pham,
The hairdos of CarMart, the rally-cat slam—
But chasing the likes of the Cubs and Milwaukee
Made lots of us grumble “So, how soon is hockey?”
The front office heard the fans’ dissatisfaction….
The mandate was clear! The GM sprang to action!
They whiffed on Giancarlo, who gave them his thanks
For driving his price up, then fled to the Yanks
With nary a gift bag from Jeter (how rude!
We’d heard he was nicer to those whom he’d screwed).
They’ve not made much noise yet on Darvish or Archer,
Who’d go a long way to ease Lance Lynn’s departure;
The Orioles’ GM remains unpersuaded,
So Manny Machado hasn’t been traded,
And Jake Arrieta remains with his team
To ponder the question “the clear or the cream?”
But all is not lost! Mo and Girsch and DeWitt
Got Ozuna—a guy who can actually hit—
And (bonus) a righty reliever named Miles
Who amuses himself by devouring reptiles!
Perhaps they’re not finished; perhaps Père Noel
Will bring us more presents like Miles and Marcell!
Like Hosmer or Yelich or Fulmer or Bruce,
Duffy or Greinke or J.D. or Moose!
(Which may all be moot, since the one thing that’s sure
Is that 22’s job is forever secure.)
In any case, friends, here’s a holiday blessing
And a wish that next season is far less depressing.
May your days be as merry and bright as Jeff Luhnow,
And if you don’t like my dumb poem, blame Bruno.
Now I bid you goodnight, baseball fans of St. Louis—
Merry Christmas to all, from your left-coast half-Jewess!