Ode To The Offseason

‘Twas a night in midwinter,

And all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even a mouse

When all of a sudden,

Lying asleep,

I heard a strange sound,

Barely more than a peep

Waking from slumber,

I searched for the source,

I reached for my phone,

As a matter of course

In fact, it was ringing:

Not loudly at all,

I read the display,

Then I answered the call

A voice spoke to me,

A man I did not know,

With no introduction,

He let the words flow

“The season approaches,”

He said at the start,

“And although you deny it,

There’s doubt in your heart.”

“You sit there and think,

That we may not win.

Let me promise you this:

We’ll be more than we’ve been.”

“We’ve got solid young pitching,

And yes, even more:

Our GM has developed

An outstanding core.”

“Our lineup is youthful,

Our bullpen is primed;

You may not believe it,

But this is our time.”

I thought for a moment,

Then spoke to the man.

“I hope you’re not selling,

A new ticket plan.”

He laughed at that one,

Then spoke again,

“Please, pay your attention,

And I won’t pretend.”

“I’m not selling or buying,

Nor running a scam,

I’m here to remove you,

From your mental jam.”

“Mets fans are loyal,

That’s always been clear.

Now we want you to know,

That there’s no need to fear.”

“I can tell you this,

From the depths of my heart,

We’re primed for October,

Straight from the start.”

In sudden silence,

The phone line was dead,

And I sat bewildered,

Alone on my bed

Had that been the truth?

Were my Mets really there?

Could they get to October?

And breathe playoff air?

Thus quite bewildered,

I fell into sleep,

Some hours later,

My alarm clock beeped

According to habit,

My first move of the dawn,

Was to open Safari

To metsblog.com

I saw the first item,

My heart gave a lurch,

It said, “Still no news,

In the Mets shortstop search.”

So now who was right?

The man on the phone,

Had said seeds to victory

Were already sown

But now I’m being told

That there’s no shortstop present?

And none of our options,

Is particularly pleasant?

Well that doesn’t fit,

I silently opined,

We’ve got some young talent,

Who knows what we’ll find?

We’ve got Wilmer at short,

And he may yet be great,

So let’s give him a chance,

Let’s not get irate

My point to myself

Was that nobody knows,

We’ve all yet to experience

The highs and the lows

Not reporters, nor even

Duquette on TV

Knows what kind of hitter

Wilmer Flores will be

Nor do they know

How this team will contend,

With the season approaching

From right ‘round the bend

The dire predictions,

Disheartening news,

The stories that give us,

The Mets-induced blues

They have no affect

On the season for now,

All will be decided,

But no one knows how.

So my message to you,

As you reach the end,

It that negativity,

Is never your friend

We don’t know what will happen,

Nor in what way,

So can’t we just try

To be happy today?

The anger, the sadness,

The clamorous din,

At least can’t it wait

‘Til the season begins?


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