Why dost thou squand’rest thy talents so,
Whilst yon victories plummeteth mightily low?
You’ve nary a top 30 player in VORP,
And thy attle-hurlers cannot get but three.
Whenst therest a runner upon second,
A call’d third strike to the ump is beckoned.
When the moon has risen and the night is nigh,
You blow the damn game because you are already millionaires and winning a baseball game isn't important to you, which offends me on a personal level.
