About this project: I am no Chaucer or Homer (in the Greek poet sense), but through the 2023 season, I will be writing a poem about each Mets game in an epic poem style. Obviously, I hope this will not be another tragedy! The poem will be in the left column, and the translation will be on the right.
Too sticky or not too sticky, that is the umps question.
Whether its nobler in the mind of Max the Mad,
To sling natural fastballs of outrageous aggression,
Or to take arms of glue against a weary see of ump lad,
And by opposing logic, to die, to sleep, to baseballs stocks.
No more; and by a sleep we say surely a loss so sad.
The faithful heartache and a million unnatural shocks,
To win, perchance, to dream of a hero in a shallow pitchers pool,
We give La Bums pause, victory! behind young arms throwing rocks.
The umpires checked Max Scherzer’s hands for evidence of an illegal substance, and found some. It raises the question on whether Max would actually be dumb enough to come out with an illegal substance on his hands knowing he would be checked and not be able to pitch.
He was ejected and surely all Mets fans thought we would lose this game. However, somehow we won the game behind the young pitchers.
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