RED SOX 2017

I haven’t been living in Boston that long.

I thought I’d be fine, but it seems I was wrong.

They’d gotten past Houston and kept hope alive,

But sadly, there wasn’t to be a Game Five.

I cry in my beer, lost in memories of

Big Papi’s goodbye, Sale pounding his glove,

Of Mookie Betts twiddling his fingers from first,

Of how they’d fall back, then come through in a burst,

J. Bradley “on skis” in the outfielders’ dance,

Craig Kimbrel’s bizarre pre-delivery stance,

The night that Pedroia bare-handed the ball,

Then flung it to Mitch in the midst of a fall.

Our young Benintendi was one for the books.

Oh man, what an arm. (Have you noticed he looks,

Just a bit, like the ’85 Michael J. Fox?)

Till April rolls round again, God bless the Sox.

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