How the Ache Stole 2005
How the Ache Stole 2005
Every fan down in Wrigleyville liked baseball a lot,
But the Ache, who lived on the South Side, did NOT!
The Ache hated baseball!
The whole baseball season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his manager didn't speak English quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his own shoulder was tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that he missed out on playoffs each fall.
But, whatever the reason,
His English or arm,
He stood there each season, bringing Cub pitchers harm.
Staring down from his trailer with a sour, Achey frown
At the warm lighted windows in their stones that were Brown.
For he knew every fan down in Wrigleyville there
Was eagerly waiting for runs, hits, and errors.
"And they're hanging their White Flag!" he snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Opening Day! It is here!"
Then he growled, with his Ache fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find a way to keep baseball from coming!"
For, tomorrow, he knew, all those who loved Cubs
Would wake up bright and early.
They'd rush for their pubs!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the fans, young and old, would sit down for a beer.
"Old Style!" They'd say! "I need two over here!"
They would start on Old Style, nachos, and brats,
Which the Ache couldn't stand, and he couldn't stand lots!
And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!
Every fan down in Wrigleyville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, during the seventh inning.
They'd stand with their beers, and the fans would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing!
And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Ache thought of the Fan-Inning-Sing,
The more the Ache thought, "I must stop this whole thing!
"Why for ninety-seven years I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop baseball from coming!
But HOW?" Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE ACHE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Ache laughed like a virus.
And he made up a phrase! "Shoulder bursitis!"
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Achey trick!
"I'll give Wood bursitis, and a case of the ticks!"
So he called his dog Dusty, with toothpicks galore,
And said, "I'll break Wood, Mark, and Jobo for sure!"
Then he hitched Dusty up to an old bullpen car,
And said, "Giddyup! Wrigley Field isn't far!"
And they moved toward the place where fans pass out at bars.
All their windows were dark. Crushed hopes filled the air.
All the fans were dreaming of '08 without care.
He got to 1060 Addison and stopped there.
"This is where we must stop," The old Ache hissed,
And climbed over the fence, and balled up his fist.
Then he grabbed Wood by his right shoulder, and pinched.
And said, "Now there's no way that you bums will clinch!"
Then he slithered and slunk, with an unpleasant smile,
Around the whole room, setting traps all the while!
Banana peels! Billy goats! Pitch counts! And fans!
Paul Sullivan! Neifi! And expansion plans!
And he left them all there. Then the Ache, with a grin,
Clapped his hands together, saying, "They'll never win!"
Then he slunk to the hot tub. He took Prior's arm!
He took JoBo's forearm! He brought the Cubs harm!
He cleaned out that team just as quick as he could.
Why, that Ache even took the Cub shortstop, who's good!
Then he left all the saps at Wrigley with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned the Ache, "I will leave you Dusty!
"He'll run your Zambrano right into the ground!
"You'd all better fear when he's taking the mound!
"He'll have pitch counts of two hundred, three hundred, four!
"And when his arm falls off he'll just pitch him some more!"
Then he turned around fast, and saw a small fry!
Little Jose Macias, a troll of a guy.
The Ache had been caught by this little pinch-hitter,
Who'd got out of bed for a trip to the shitter.
He stared at the Ache and said,
"Achy, why? Why are you ruining 2005? WHY?"
But, you know, that old Ache was so smart and so slick
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, you worthless slap hitter," the South Sider lied,
"Poor Mark has a really bad stitch in his side.
"So I'm taking it home to my office, you see.
"To fix it up there with some quick therapy."
And his fib fooled Jose. Then he patted his head,
And he got him a drink and he sent him to bed.
And when Jose Macias went to bed with his cup,
He went to the front office stairs and climbed up!
Then the last thing he took was Jim Hendry's brain.
"He'll sign Burnitz and Perez and cause Cub fans much pain.
"He'll trade Sosa and Farnsworth for nothing, you see,
"And give Jose a new contract to fetch sticks for Dusty."
In the bullpen he left nothing but Wuertz and Dempster.
Hawkins a closer? The Cubs fans aren't sure.
And the one speck of hope that he left in the clubhouse,
Was Dubois, who lost his starting job to a mouse.
It was quarter past dawn...
All the fans, still a-drunk.
All the fans, still asleep.
When he left Wrigleyville, leaving them all to weep.
"Pooh-pooh to the fans!" he was ache-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no pennant is coming!
"They're just sobering up! I know just what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"Then all the fans down in Wrigleyville will all cry BOO-HOO!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Ache,
"That I simply must hear!"
So he paused. And the Ache put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the El.
It started in low. Then it started to swell
But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Wrigleyville!
The Ache popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every fan down in Wrigleyville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any baseball at all!
He HADN'T stopped baseball from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Ache, with his Ache-feet ice cold in spring snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
It came without Prior! It came without Wood!
"It came without guys on the bench who are good!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Ache thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe baseball," he thought, "isn't 'bout wins and losses.
"Maybe baseball's 'bout lining the pockets of bosses!"
And what happened then?
Well...in Wrigley they say,
That the Ache's small heart,
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his ointment through the bright morning light,
And he fixed Kerry Wood! And Mark and JoBo!
And he... HE HIMSELF...!
Went 20-0!
Every fan down in Wrigleyville liked baseball a lot,
But the Ache, who lived on the South Side, did NOT!
The Ache hated baseball!
The whole baseball season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his manager didn't speak English quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his own shoulder was tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that he missed out on playoffs each fall.
But, whatever the reason,
His English or arm,
He stood there each season, bringing Cub pitchers harm.
Staring down from his trailer with a sour, Achey frown
At the warm lighted windows in their stones that were Brown.
For he knew every fan down in Wrigleyville there
Was eagerly waiting for runs, hits, and errors.
"And they're hanging their White Flag!" he snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Opening Day! It is here!"
Then he growled, with his Ache fingers nervously drumming,
"I MUST find a way to keep baseball from coming!"
For, tomorrow, he knew, all those who loved Cubs
Would wake up bright and early.
They'd rush for their pubs!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the fans, young and old, would sit down for a beer.
"Old Style!" They'd say! "I need two over here!"
They would start on Old Style, nachos, and brats,
Which the Ache couldn't stand, and he couldn't stand lots!
And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!
Every fan down in Wrigleyville, the tall and the small,
Would stand close together, during the seventh inning.
They'd stand with their beers, and the fans would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing!
And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Ache thought of the Fan-Inning-Sing,
The more the Ache thought, "I must stop this whole thing!
"Why for ninety-seven years I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop baseball from coming!
But HOW?" Then he got an idea!
An awful idea!
THE ACHE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The Ache laughed like a virus.
And he made up a phrase! "Shoulder bursitis!"
And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Achey trick!
"I'll give Wood bursitis, and a case of the ticks!"
So he called his dog Dusty, with toothpicks galore,
And said, "I'll break Wood, Mark, and Jobo for sure!"
Then he hitched Dusty up to an old bullpen car,
And said, "Giddyup! Wrigley Field isn't far!"
And they moved toward the place where fans pass out at bars.
All their windows were dark. Crushed hopes filled the air.
All the fans were dreaming of '08 without care.
He got to 1060 Addison and stopped there.
"This is where we must stop," The old Ache hissed,
And climbed over the fence, and balled up his fist.
Then he grabbed Wood by his right shoulder, and pinched.
And said, "Now there's no way that you bums will clinch!"
Then he slithered and slunk, with an unpleasant smile,
Around the whole room, setting traps all the while!
Banana peels! Billy goats! Pitch counts! And fans!
Paul Sullivan! Neifi! And expansion plans!
And he left them all there. Then the Ache, with a grin,
Clapped his hands together, saying, "They'll never win!"
Then he slunk to the hot tub. He took Prior's arm!
He took JoBo's forearm! He brought the Cubs harm!
He cleaned out that team just as quick as he could.
Why, that Ache even took the Cub shortstop, who's good!
Then he left all the saps at Wrigley with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned the Ache, "I will leave you Dusty!
"He'll run your Zambrano right into the ground!
"You'd all better fear when he's taking the mound!
"He'll have pitch counts of two hundred, three hundred, four!
"And when his arm falls off he'll just pitch him some more!"
Then he turned around fast, and saw a small fry!
Little Jose Macias, a troll of a guy.
The Ache had been caught by this little pinch-hitter,
Who'd got out of bed for a trip to the shitter.
He stared at the Ache and said,
"Achy, why? Why are you ruining 2005? WHY?"
But, you know, that old Ache was so smart and so slick
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, you worthless slap hitter," the South Sider lied,
"Poor Mark has a really bad stitch in his side.
"So I'm taking it home to my office, you see.
"To fix it up there with some quick therapy."
And his fib fooled Jose. Then he patted his head,
And he got him a drink and he sent him to bed.
And when Jose Macias went to bed with his cup,
He went to the front office stairs and climbed up!
Then the last thing he took was Jim Hendry's brain.
"He'll sign Burnitz and Perez and cause Cub fans much pain.
"He'll trade Sosa and Farnsworth for nothing, you see,
"And give Jose a new contract to fetch sticks for Dusty."
In the bullpen he left nothing but Wuertz and Dempster.
Hawkins a closer? The Cubs fans aren't sure.
And the one speck of hope that he left in the clubhouse,
Was Dubois, who lost his starting job to a mouse.
It was quarter past dawn...
All the fans, still a-drunk.
All the fans, still asleep.
When he left Wrigleyville, leaving them all to weep.
"Pooh-pooh to the fans!" he was ache-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no pennant is coming!
"They're just sobering up! I know just what they'll do!
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
"Then all the fans down in Wrigleyville will all cry BOO-HOO!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Ache,
"That I simply must hear!"
So he paused. And the Ache put a hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the El.
It started in low. Then it started to swell
But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Wrigleyville!
The Ache popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every fan down in Wrigleyville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any baseball at all!
He HADN'T stopped baseball from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Ache, with his Ache-feet ice cold in spring snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
It came without Prior! It came without Wood!
"It came without guys on the bench who are good!"
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Ache thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe baseball," he thought, "isn't 'bout wins and losses.
"Maybe baseball's 'bout lining the pockets of bosses!"
And what happened then?
Well...in Wrigley they say,
That the Ache's small heart,
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his ointment through the bright morning light,
And he fixed Kerry Wood! And Mark and JoBo!
And he... HE HIMSELF...!
Went 20-0!
posted by Bad Kermit at 12:11 PM
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