I was thinking tonight as I am getting my place ready for the FanFest, thinking about how over the past few springs I get really excited about the team, and by the end of those past few seasons the losses and the injuries and the trades take the wind out of the most optimistic sails. But of course the cries of "Next Season!" help us all get through until the next spring. I don't think any of us truly expect to be world beaters this year, but 2011 holds promise. And so it goes. Hence some poetry, some prose.
While it is still raining
I dream of spring training
Unable to quench
My hope each new year
It begins with each season
Without sense
Without reason
Unabated enthusiasm
For my ol' Green and Gold
Though afire in March
Often doused by September
As far back as I can remember
The promise of pennants
Of Octobers and Fingers
Blue Mondays and Hunters
Swingers not bunters
Maybe this will be our year
As I sleep in my cozy warm bed
This cold winter baseball-less night
The image of Custian homers aflight
Dance through my dreams
Like eternal hope springs
Dreams of tarpless stadiums
Of countless crowds
Bart bridges bursting
The masses happy
Crazy and loud
The title returns to Oaktown
The harsh days of summer
Will come quickly no doubt
And hopes for '11 with each
crushing rout
Taylor and Weeks
Cardenas and Carter
And any young prospects
Our Billy may barter
But stay here a while
Stay here with me
Where hope springs eternal
And hope lives in spring




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