I didn't want to come in here. But it is clear that I am unoriginal and unfunny. Please put me out of my misery needs to be created. So, with a deferential nod to Jose... St. Timmy's Day.
If we are mark'd to lose, we are enough
To do our Nation loss; and if to win,
The fewer fans, the greater share of honour.
Doug's Belly! I pray thee, wish not one fans of a lessor stature than I more.
By Ted's frozen head, I care not who is on the wagon,
It yearns me not if pussy fans my colors wear;
Such outward things bother me not:
But if it be a sin to covet victory,
I am the most offending poster
In this Sandbox of Sox
No, faith, my bro's, wish not a Youk liner in the gap:
Nor a Eric Gagne change-up that changed
Nor a Dice-K 20k memory
By Youk's Bitter Beer Face! I would not lose so great an honour
As this comeback shall give to me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Nation, through my post,
That he who hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And let him return when Beckett is on the mound
Or Papelbon glares in
Or David twirls the bat
Or Manny raises his arms
We would not cheer in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
Today is St. Timmy's Day
They call it bosses Day
And A Wake shall boss over them all
For who could seek promotion
Who could not spell Johnny Peralta?
On this day was Suzanne Somers born
On this day Borowski's unmastered fat thighs shall quake with fear
For I do here proclaim it
Today is St. Timmy's Day
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the Sox Classic plays,
And rouse him at the remembered victory.
He that shall see Sox victory today, and see old age,
Will yearly on the date feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is October 16th:'
Old men forget: yea all July and August be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats Coco of Crisp did that day:
Then shall their names.
(Familiar as Baylor, and Boggs, and Greenwell)
St Timmy the Starter, Pedroia, and swift Jacoby,
Tiny Lugo, Steady Lowell, and unexpected Dougie,
Even JD the Silent
Be in their frosty beers freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And teach him to drink to the deeds of that day
And St. Timmy's Day shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
And we in it shall remember
We few, we happy few, we band of Sandboxers;
For he to-day that posts with me today
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so much a jackass,
Who thinks Santana can be acquired for naught
This game shall certify his position:
And cowards in New York and Anaheim now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That posted with us upon St. Timmy's day.