My Heart Towards the 2006 Orioles

A little fun added to the frustration of being an Orioles fan for the past 9 years!!!!!

Think, "Casey at the Bat," and enjoy!

Orioles At The Yard

by Craig A. Steffen

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Bird’s nine in oh six,
They hadn’t finished above fourth since “Lewinsky and Slick.”

When Raffy juiced and lied to us, and Miggy minced his words,
Fresh skepticism fell upon the patrons of them Birds.

A growing crowd cashed in their seats and gave up on the team.
The rest clung to a hope only strengthened by Jim Beam.
They thought, "if only Mazzone could teach our pitchers to win.
We'd put up even money with Mazzone in the pen."

But RoLo gave up homers and Cabrera walked the league;
Javy Lopez was a whiner, and the bullpen’s under siege.

So upon that stricken Belfry Board, grim melancholy sat;
for there seemed but little chance of Mazzone fixing that.

But Benson was solid most nights, to the wonderment of most.
And Bedard, the enigma, tore through lineups like a ghost.

And when May and June ended,
and the All Star break approached,
Kerry wrote his treatise sparing Mazzone’s quick reproach.

Then from five thousand posts and more there rose some common ground;
it rumbled through Spring Valley, it rattled in ChiTown;

it pounded through Mount Airy and Indianapolis;
For the thought of team-rebuilding seemed the O’s future bliss.

There was interest in Tejada, LeTroy, RoLo and Conine.

There was new hope in Belfry land that young talent would soon shine.

And when, responding to the rumors, Flanny gave a smile,

We got the impression he had the Angels on speed dial.

Ten million fans were dreaming, as possibilities swirled.

Oswalt, Santana, Aybar and the lot could be our new pearls.

Then while the Angel GM thought, the player swaps were done,

Defiance flashed in Flanny’s eye, “NO” came from Duquette’s tongue.

Now came the offer from the ‘Stros, Oswalt was on the table.

But they waited just long enough to hear “unavailable.”

Close by stood Angelos, looking over our boy’s shoulders.

“Those ain’t our style,” they all agreed --

”What The…!” The fan’s ire began to smolder.

From the Belfry, red with anger, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of Katrina on Louisiana’s shores.

"Kill him! Kill Angelos!" shouted someone in their post,

But in the press Flanny took on blame and Duquette claimed the most.

With quiet confidence, the front office set out again.

They looked to get more players from the deals that once had been.

Some more and better prospects Flanny sought the GMs pay.

“Not only no, but Hell NO,” was all the rivals would say.

“Make the deal,” cried the maddened thousands; the deadline drew nigh.
But insiders were certain that these trades would not pass them by.

All their efforts were redoubled, their cell phone ringers rang.

There was still hope that this July would go out with a bang.

The gleam has fled from Flanny’s eye, his lips twitch with his fire.
He seeks, with single vigilance, smart players with desire.

And as the clock ticks down and the deadline looms the bigger.

Millions, with abated breath, anticipate the trigger.

Oh, somewhere in baseball land a team is building stronger.
A stud is playing somewhere; winning streaks are longer.
And, somewhere fans are laughing, and little children shout,

but there is no hope in Bawlmer --
The Orioles have struck out!