|I don't think this is what he meant by Thing 1 and Thing 2.|
Disclaimer: Don’t judge the rhyming pattern. I tried. If you do, then you’ve missed the point. Enjoy! There will be way more formal season recaps to come.
In a place that is really not far from your home,
There’s a park in the city where Redlegs will roam.
They’ll be pitching their balls and swinging their bats.
They’ll be squeezing their gloves and donning their hats.
It’s the fifth of April and they’re ready to play
On a day that’s so special called Opening Day.
There’s peanuts, there’s hot dogs, they’re all so delish
And they’ll take on the splish-ity, splash-ity fish.
The Redlegs felt they could win a championship
They were off on their run winning four runs to zip.
For all of the month they played five hundred ball.
The fans started to tweet, “This is no good at all!”
They’d yell at the fayman, “We want Dusty’s head!”
Then he’d reply “Let them play the season instead.”
The fans grew quite restless and got even more mean
Till they were saved by a hero with number nineteen.
It was Mother’s Day. The season looked like a sham.
Then number nineteen hit a walk-off grand slam.
The ball seemed to whistle and do loopty-loos
The fans were so happy they jumped out of their shoes.
Could they keep on winning games and go on a streak?
Redleg Nation stayed happy for almost a week.
But wait! Not so fast. Could this burst their bubble?
Their lefty at closer was having some trouble.
“We’ll put him at set up. Someone needs to step in.”
So the Redlegs unleashed their secret weapon.
They called him the Missile and he threw fireballs.
He threw it so fast they were dropping their jaws.
So then every time he took to the mound
The hitters would come, but he’d sit them back down.
The Reds started winning, not a moment too soon.
They climbed into first place and stayed there through June.
The team kept pushing for they knew what was at stake.
Shortly they would be enjoying the All-Star break.
They couldn’t slow down though because everyone knows
You don’t want to get caught by your terrible foes.
And terrible they are as everyone talks,
Bout the Swashbucklin’ Bucs and the Red Babble Squawks.
One was from Pitt and the other from St. Looie;
One on the up rise and one that was screwy.
The Bucs trying to erase losing years of past
And speaking of years the Squawks were champs of last.
Three losses in a row ‘fore the losing would stop.
The Bucs had emerged and now sat at the top.
Then there came three wins for the second-place Reds
But they were still in second and scratching their heads.
An All-Star napping was the rest they could need.
They forged a second-half plan so they could succeed.
First they’d send three to play for the National League,
But two were left off. Was it a TLR intrigue?
Two of the best were omitted from the club.
The ace and second baseman were surely a snub.
No matter; a victory the NL did earn
But the knee of nineteen became a concern.
The Red Babble Squawks were the first team they’d face.
It was postseason play for which they would race.
After the break the Redlegs came out with a burst.
They won three in a row and moved into first.
Then on July 16th came a major bombshell
That’s when number nineteen landed on the DL.
So what would they do without their best hitter?
Those with no faith thought they’d turn into a quitter.
There were cries of “Oh My!” “Oh Gosh!” and “Oh No!”
Then low and behold, they won 10 in a row.
The others stepped up. They got help from a BROTHER.
One-by-one win they’d win one then another.
The winning then cooled, but they still played very well.
Their lead in the Central was starting to swell.
The Babble Squawks faded. The Bucs fell behind.
Visions of popping champagne were soon on their mind.
They’d played long enough for nineteen to get back,
But he was sliding to base and had a setback.
This painful news had the fans in a worry.
They wanted number nineteen back in a hurry.
The Redlegs rolled on still winning their games
They were kicking some tails and taking some names.
The team entered the last month of the season
There was lots to enjoy, especially one reason.
For number nineteen had gotten off of his seat,
Dusted off his bat and hadn’t missed a beat.
Now all the fans seemed to awake from a slumber
As the Redlegs played for that magical number.
For the division crown, ten, nine, and then eight
They all played together and were pulling their weight.
It went down to seven, then six, and then five.
And the Toddfather was caught dancing a jive.
They won one, two, three, four for four, three, two, one.
They clinched the wildcard but they were not done.
They’d win the division if the Babble Squawks lost
Who played during the day but lose they did not.
It was up to the Redlegs in order to win.
They sent out the new guy and gave him a spin.
He whiffed seven batters over eight empty frames.
They called to the bullpen which then burst into flames.
Out shot the Missile to finish the last inning;
A division title soon they’d be winning.
The Missile was grounded for a couple of weeks.
He’d broken some sprockets and sprung a few leaks.
But now he was ready and all full of fire.
The next three were who he looked to retire.
The pitches came with a bang, a whiz, and some shouts
As the Missile proceeded to get the last outs.
The Redlegs had done it. Yes, they were the champs.
On the Central trophy they put on the clamps.
It was time to prepare to play through the fall
With hopes that the Redlegs would soon win it all.
Now they’ll put their postseason hats on their heads
As the fans roar and cheer for their team, “Go Reds!”