But is it still too late for a playoff pushback?
It was rarely that barely a month ago
That the playoffs we’d foresee,
Then September has pained our hopes, we know,
For our favorite men of TC,
But September has gained a win as we go,
Give us hope as we hope we’ll be.
First came a pain and worst came a pain
As Woods Richardson let three,
But the pen came again as a perfect ten,
Saving the men of TC;
And the pen turned the music up to eleven—
Perfect, we’d all agree.
And then, from the offense, there came a show
First in inning number three,
When coming up with the bags loaded,
Did Larnach score two of TC.
And then in the fourth, Lord Byron came
To hammer a baseball free,
It soaring into the bleacher seats
For the score tied three to three.
The scoring then stopped ‘til frame number seven
When errors would pay a fee,
The Twins went off and a pair would score
‘Til the bags were full, all three,
And Santana lined down the right field line,
Pouring and scoring our men of TC.
And the STUDS, every one, and there’s none of them DUDS,
Not one in this game that we see,
Not one on the field, we agree.
A quip from Nagurski, an eight-run call:
Yes, the Comment du Jeu it will be.
So late in September a win—yes, our goal—
Has returned to the men of TC.
But October, the tease which would everyone please,
(Most specifically, men of TC)
Is yet still out of reach, but we hope in to breach
With our resolute men of TC.
And so as the night falls, sounds of bats striking balls
Are resounding—and pounding—as hope in our minds,
In this stadium here, where we’ll see
If October will find TC.