Bunt the First Two

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose one with my bats in a rut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ If my starter throws cutters that don't seem to cut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose two if my manager's crazy ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ If my outfield is slow or my infeld is lazy ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose three with my third base coach drinking ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ If my catcher is hurt and my depth chart is shrinking ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose four if my bullpen is wild ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ If my shortstop's not here 'cuz his wife had a child ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ If we touch down with jet lag, you bet I'll lose five ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Everyone's sluggish and just won't revive ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose six just relying on rookies‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ With my lefty reliever behind with his bookies ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Loss seven could come in a thick Denver blizzard ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Or in Phoenix, my set-up guy's bit by a lizard ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I'll lose eight when angst, langor, or Weltschmerz sets in ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When ennui robs us of all will to win ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can lose nine from the things I don't know ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Screwed by a trade we made two years ago ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But ten in row? Fuck it, something is up ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Someone said "Sabotage?" and another said "Yup!" ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ELEVEN full games without any wins? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Somewhere a voodoo doll's bursting with pins ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When a streak hits 11, things get suspicious ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Like my claims that I'm trying are deeply fictitious ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Like I want to be fired to collect on insurance ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Like I get a sick thrill as I try fans' endurance ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Eleven-game streaks are hard to explain ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ But a joy, if like me, you have learned to love pain

Collin McHugh Sweet Collin McHugh He does the things The others won't do Starring in Flushing In Las Vegas too Some guy's an issue? Not Collin McHugh! You speak of mechanics? A weak follow through? No dropping arm angle For Collin McHugh Let Baseball Prospectus Say that they knew But few sang the praises Of Collin McHugh But Collin's not bitter He's no room for pride With his songwriting brother His craft-making bride He's their inspiration And how it shines through! Their work speaking volumes Of Collin McHugh So lament all ye Met fans The cry's nothing new The owner's a cheapass Your hopes you eschew Curse the veteran bumblers And the sad sacks still new But spare a kind word for Brave Collin McHugh For when ship's righted Oh when the worm's turned You quitters will come back From the past, we have learned And when hope burns brightest And the quest's almost through On the mound, hopes will fix on Good Collin McHugh It might be game seven It might be game six But I know you'll pay dearly For those post-season tix "I knew they could do it!" The quitters will mew "I bless his sweet slider" "GO, COLLIN McHUGH!!" And the when the last groundout Brings tears to your eyes And they douse him in liquor Underneath Gotham skies Your conscience will sting you As consciences do "Oh, why did I doubt you My Collin McHugh?"