They left him for dead, they thought he was done
Couldn't play the field since he couldn't really run
Years on artificial turf took a terrible toll
Seemed destined to fade away in a minor role
He was a first-rounder, a forty-forty threat
Who also hit for average, how much better could he get?
He didn't get better - in fact he got much worse
Until his fantasy stock was put into a hearse
While he may have been dead in his former owners' eyes
Vlad is quite a fighter as his last name implies
So when the Angels lost faith, he had amazing luck
And would up in the only place where he always failed to suck
Everyone loves Arlington, but none more than Vlad Guerrero
Now he's primed to get a Silver Slugger, not a Golden Sombrero
The warmer weather should help him to avoid cold spells
I wish I hadn't passed Vlad up to draft Randy Wells*
* 100% true
Fantasy Sports Verse
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Under My Thumb
Under my thumb is a coin
Which is not proof of wealth
But that the ligaments that join
My thumb bones are in good health
I cannot touch major league heat
But both my hands can grip a baat
Jason Heyward had to take a seat
Since now he can't even do that
Under my thumb is my phone
Which isn't painful for that digit
The reason why I do not moan
Is my thumb's lack of fractures in it
Chase Utley's owners will now have to scramble
Since the range of motion in his thumb is gone
If they can't trade they'll have to gamble
On people like Cristian Guzman
Which is not proof of wealth
But that the ligaments that join
My thumb bones are in good health
I cannot touch major league heat
But both my hands can grip a baat
Jason Heyward had to take a seat
Since now he can't even do that
Under my thumb is my phone
Which isn't painful for that digit
The reason why I do not moan
Is my thumb's lack of fractures in it
Chase Utley's owners will now have to scramble
Since the range of motion in his thumb is gone
If they can't trade they'll have to gamble
On people like Cristian Guzman
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Limericks 6/29
There once was an Andre named Ethier
Whose counting stats couldn't be beefier
But he never planned
To fracture his hand
Now he's making fantasy teams feel hurt
There once was a slugger named Papi
Whose swing was disjointed and choppy
But with increased heat
His swing became sweet
Now he'll punish each pitch that is sloppy
There once was a Hart on the Brewers
Whose average was stuck in the sewers
But with each homer smacked
The sunglasses cracks
Are becoming fewer and fewer
Whose counting stats couldn't be beefier
But he never planned
To fracture his hand
Now he's making fantasy teams feel hurt
There once was a slugger named Papi
Whose swing was disjointed and choppy
But with increased heat
His swing became sweet
Now he'll punish each pitch that is sloppy
There once was a Hart on the Brewers
Whose average was stuck in the sewers
But with each homer smacked
The sunglasses cracks
Are becoming fewer and fewer
Tim Hudson
Hudson was the best one of Oakland's three aces
He spent some time exploring for his misplaced greatness
He found it in 2008 and threw extremely well
Until a cruel twist of fate damaged his UCL
Hudson was forgotten like, well, um, I forget
Three bucks in an auction; that's a move I won't regret
'Tho Strasburg throws a change-up as fast as Tim's fastball
When the two met yesterday that did not faze Tim at all
Strasburg struck out seven; Hudson struck out six
Six Ks from Tim is cause for celebratory kicks
But what matters is the crowd witnessed Timmy toss
Seven shutout innings while Strasburg took the loss
Hudson is no river valley; Hudson is a peak
People facing Hudson seem to be up the creek
He won't make many bats make a whiffing sound
But he more than makes up for it with outs on the ground
Hudson is a beast in ERA, WHIP and wins
Turns the NL East batters seem like fish sans fins
'Tho if Hanson is JD he's the older guy - Bob Kelso
He'll be no scrub as long as he has a healthy elbow
He spent some time exploring for his misplaced greatness
He found it in 2008 and threw extremely well
Until a cruel twist of fate damaged his UCL
Hudson was forgotten like, well, um, I forget
Three bucks in an auction; that's a move I won't regret
'Tho Strasburg throws a change-up as fast as Tim's fastball
When the two met yesterday that did not faze Tim at all
Strasburg struck out seven; Hudson struck out six
Six Ks from Tim is cause for celebratory kicks
But what matters is the crowd witnessed Timmy toss
Seven shutout innings while Strasburg took the loss
Hudson is no river valley; Hudson is a peak
People facing Hudson seem to be up the creek
He won't make many bats make a whiffing sound
But he more than makes up for it with outs on the ground
Hudson is a beast in ERA, WHIP and wins
Turns the NL East batters seem like fish sans fins
'Tho if Hanson is JD he's the older guy - Bob Kelso
He'll be no scrub as long as he has a healthy elbow
Ode To Jacoby Ellsbury
O Jacoby, we hardly knew ye, you had feet as fleet as Mercury
The kind of baseball player countless children try to work to be
Yet can't play that way if they train all day, up at the start of morn
Ye of more speed than Hanley Ramirez and more pop than Michael Bourn
O Jacoby, you were an angel in the eyes of many analysts
With your speed and decent bat they were high on you like cannabis
Most said you were a second-rounder, some pegged you for the first
All seemed ready for your speedy best, not one fathomed the worst
O Jacoby, you should have traded some speed for field vision
Perhaps that would've spared you from the fateful collision
'Twas at least as painful as falling off a ladder
For the BoSox and thy owners, that day was black like an adder
Since instead of getting mad or even, you got hurt
If 'twas college I guess you would get a red shirt
But you're in the pros, which means that you missed
A huge chunk of time on the disabled list
O Jacoby, the brave, tried to get back on the field
Although the fractures in your ribs still hadn't healed
So with each step it hurt - 'twas no surprise when
You had to be placed on the DL again
O Jacoby, may you heal, may you regain your fire
May you play the game longer than Mark Mulder or Prior
May you run like the wind with a head full of steam
I'm so glad that you're not on my fantasy team
The kind of baseball player countless children try to work to be
Yet can't play that way if they train all day, up at the start of morn
Ye of more speed than Hanley Ramirez and more pop than Michael Bourn
O Jacoby, you were an angel in the eyes of many analysts
With your speed and decent bat they were high on you like cannabis
Most said you were a second-rounder, some pegged you for the first
All seemed ready for your speedy best, not one fathomed the worst
O Jacoby, you should have traded some speed for field vision
Perhaps that would've spared you from the fateful collision
'Twas at least as painful as falling off a ladder
For the BoSox and thy owners, that day was black like an adder
Since instead of getting mad or even, you got hurt
If 'twas college I guess you would get a red shirt
But you're in the pros, which means that you missed
A huge chunk of time on the disabled list
O Jacoby, the brave, tried to get back on the field
Although the fractures in your ribs still hadn't healed
So with each step it hurt - 'twas no surprise when
You had to be placed on the DL again
O Jacoby, may you heal, may you regain your fire
May you play the game longer than Mark Mulder or Prior
May you run like the wind with a head full of steam
I'm so glad that you're not on my fantasy team
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