The day before was better; bats were bare
Last night as we faced MadBum. Almost all
The way were shut down, until Barnes squared
And sent it into stands, over the wall.
That solo shot was not enough to tie,
And Ryu only got out seven guys.
Then later on, McCarthy came to try
And did alright, returning like one wise.
Feelings of discouragement at the end
When Puig decided to steal second base.
Doc was not pleased and made it known. Depend
We can’t on those bad choices in this race.
Our last game ‘gainst the Giants is this afternoon,
And Kershaw’s in to start, oh what a boon!
The West, at last, is ours! That took too long
To reach the magic number, but now all
Is well though we must keep the winning on
If we are to have home field through the fall.
A record set by Bellinger as he
Has hit the most home runs by an NL
Rookie with number thirty-nine. So free
I feel knowing that I am not in hell.
Rich Hill did excellent; he even raked!
And Tommy celebrated ninety years
Of living strong – a big cake we have baked
In honor of his heart; it brings me tears.
Ryu tonight must show what he can do
To pitch in the postseason – please come through!
Now I remember how it feels to win!
Surprising from the pen, but I will take
The opposite of loss! I wear a grin
Originating from a state of shake.
Now Kenta wasn’t sharp, but to my joy
The bullpen’s six were for the most part smooth.
To close it off, a four-out Kenley ploy
To save the game and reaffirm the truth.
The magic number’s one, today we can
Assure the West is ours thanks to Andre
And Cody for their seventh-inning span
Of scoring. To that, I shall sing ‘Hooray!’
On Tommy’s day of birth, the greatest gift
Would be Hill pitching us to clinch so swift!
An all-around bullpen catastrophe
Has unleashed yet again, delaying clinch
Of NL West; more delay to our glee.
Each game’s annoying like a little pinch.
The combined efforts of Ross and Luis
Kept champagne in the bottles. Such disgrace
Since our offense brought all they could to cease
This anxious aura. Shoot me into space
Since we have lost this series to the worst
Team in the league, besides San Francisco.
If we get swept, ’tis time to call the hearse
Since my impatience deals a fatal blow.
Please block the brooms – oh pitchers, do your best
As Kenta leads your charge the cross the quest!
So hideous has Pedro been these days,
And giving up four runs in two outs does
Not help the counterargument of “phase”
As it instead surrounds him with bad buzz.
Clearly, two runs were not to enough to beat,
So bats could have done better in that spot.
Though Darvish did okay and threw real neat,
It’s no excuse for offense not to plot!
A bases-clearing double from Hoskins
Was Pedro’s bane, just like so many hits
Against him, robbing us of many wins.
I hope he does not throw in ‘tober’s blitz.
Again, I know how tomorrow will end.
But pretend I have hope since Wood we send.
Such rarity: a grand slam flew by Kersh!
‘Twas the first given up in his career!
Impressive swing by Altherr, though it hurts
To lose the game because of one big smear.
Surprise indeed came over everyone,
Especially the teammates who believed
That Clayton was incapable of stun.
But kudos to the batter who achieved.
Though two home runs kicked off the game for us,
That slam negated all offense we had.
Recently, it’s been giving me a fuss
And overall, this month I ain’t been glad.
I wrote this sonnet late – I know the fate
Of what happens tomorrow. Yu, I rate.
Unfortunately, we did not use brooms
To say goodbye to nation’s capital.
The bullpen’s fallout has emitted fumes
That beckon me to cover up in wool.
At Stripling’s fault, Zimmerman knocked it out
And tamed our rediscovered wild ways.
Ryu was not bad, but could not get out
Of the fourth inning – just one of those days.
Our only offense came from Logan’s hit
That brought in Puig. The bullpen worries me,
For this team we must face again with grit
Or else, no rings for us; that won’t bring glee.
To Philadelphia, the team will go
And starting off with Kershaw can’t be woe.