Was it a win yesterday? Yep. Was it the White Sox? Yep. Has the team yet been sold? Alas…
April is the root-for season,
Speedy team or slow.
But now everybody has a question:
Who to root for? Wish we’d know.
You know how it is with baseball:
It’s a sport designed to please.
So much light to be found
In an early springtime breeze.
But oh, when the ballgame has lost its flow
And the offense is as shivery as rime,
So injured too, and healin’ few…
Now is the awful time.
Oh, now is the time — yes, now is the time —
When they’re all stayin’ out and there’s no one comin’ in,
Yeah, that’s when we know it’s a struggle to win.
The fun is getting low with anxiety to show,
And you can’t cite Chicago, their beating as a spin;
Now they’re all stayin’ out and no one’s comin’ in.
An ownership the state reviles—
No wonder they’re outside.
You know the fans are always thinkin’
That the Pohlads always lied.
We know that they care for money,
How much of it they speak to gloat.
The fans just call them losers,
And the box office: how they vote.
But oh, when the stadium has lost its glow
With misery the only offered view,
You walk about and find that all of your friends
Are findin’ somethin’ else to do.
Oh, now is the time — yes, now is the time —
When they’re all stayin’ out and no one’s comin’ in,
That’s when we know that our patience is thin.
Fun is getting low at Target’s latest show,
And you can blame the Pohlads, their greed a central sin,
Why they’re all stayin’ out and there’s no one comin’ in.
