As mentioned in one of my Christmas features, I’ve done a few song parodies through the years. I did a couple of Christmas-themed ones back when I was a sports columnist – my favorites Albert Belle, to the tune of Jingle Bells, and Deck The Halls (with Wanted Posters), a tribute to the lawlessness running through the Nebraska football program at the time.
But my all-time favorite parody song was done at Baseball Think Factory. It was sparked by a news story about 37 Comments about 37 Baltimore pitchers. I really had no choice but to extend that to the full 88.
I shudder to think just how much time I spent turning this one out, particularly since keeping the proper syllable count and cadence has always been paramount for me in these time-wasting endeavors. I hate the lazy parodies that disregard the rhythm of the original.
This is another installment of Going Green, where I reuse old material in this new venue.
88 Lines About 44 Pitchers
Pedro was a Catholic boy,
Still unsigned at this late date
Jeremy was a different type,
Sabean quickly sealed his fate
Dontrelle is a poor boy,
All his best days in his past
Felix, on the other hand,
Like royalty is built to last.
Huston was a nameless boy
A geographic memory.
Paulie was a Jesus-freak,
He liked that kind of misery.
Trachsy had this awful way
Of not delivering the seed.
Mark of Ozzie’s pitching staff,
Races through at breakneck speed.
Mark P. was an archetype,
The master of the rehab start
David thought baseball second best
To masturbating at the park.
Rick H. was a lonely voice,
Against the sport’s past backside stab.
A.J.’s point of view was this:
Take whatever you can grab.
Ugie is a bad, bad boy
Who’s best advised to hold the soap
Frankie loves to close the door
Giving Mets fans cause for hope.
Jamie had birthday parties that
Made grown men seem boys of wee
Teammate Brett has a wife
Who ought to pull a Lorena B.
Johnny R. the last redneck
Was undone by his tongue one day.
Todd however felt no wrath
By confining comments to the gays.
The Blue Jays Roy, who did not tire,
Was never, ever satisfied.
Carl P, in quite contrast
Took the cash and must have died.
Another Roy had a house in Houston,
Through his blood nothing shall pass
Ryan F now with St. Lou,
Shot steroids into his ass.
Sidney thought his life was empty,
Filled it up with alcohol.
Thirty-Eight was much too prissy,
He didn’t do that #### at all.
Uh-uh. Not Thirty Eight.
Mad Dog thought pitching was simple,
Just throw strikes upon the black
Ex-Mate Tom was a little different,
Toss ‘em a few inches past.
Ryan D. was the old-time hurler,
Always let his stockings fly.
Black Jack called himself a rocker,
Won an undeserved Cy
Dice-K was exasperating,
100 pitches through 4-plus.
Miguel wrote bad poetry
That still was better than his stuff
Crazy Turk he liked to pitch
While wearing teeth around his neck.
Smoltzie’s strange progression
Was as a better kind of Eck.
Johan was an artist hurler,
Deeper counts don’t shake him up.
That C-C bastard left the Brewers,
Took his money and his truck.
Roger C. had some problems,
Telling Congress the whole truth
Nuxhy fifteen threw for Cincy,
Then joined Marty in the booth.
Rick A. lost control one day,
Turned into a guy who slugs.
Bronson who played guitar,
Sang songs only Gammo loves.
Scott O. didn’t give a damn,
He was just a piece of ####.
Banny was much more my style,
Probably visits sites like this.
Carlos he went forty days
Drinking nothing all the day.
Barry drove his Giants team
Into the San Francisco Bay.
Aaron came from Ohio,
He’s a rebound candidate
Knuckler Timmy here’s a nod,
To end these lines of 88.
88 Lines About 44 Pitchers