I met him in a clubhouse down in Old Oakland
Where if the players aren't in pain they've got exotic diseases like ebola
e-b-o-l-a ebola
He walked down to first every time he had a chance
I asked him about his "projection" and then the Voice of God said PECOTA
P-E-C-O-T-A PECOTA P-E-C-O-T-A PECOTA
[Original lyrics here. OK, yeah, I've finally officially crossed over into Weird Al territory. So be it.]
[Full Poetic Interlude after the jump.]
Well I'm not the world's most numerate guy
But when he regressed my stats I felt it below my replacement line
On my rota ro-ro-ro-ro-rota
Well STRICKOUTS!ONE!ONE!ONE! I just can't understand
Why he walked like Jack Cust and talked like Farhan
Or Kubota Ku-Ku-Ku-Ku-Kubota Ku-Ku-Ku-Ku-Kubota
Well we rosterbated underneath the tarp
Until I said I had to go home on the BART
He picked players up for very nearly free
And said dear boy won't you love this guy Emil.
Well I'm not the worlds most literary guy
But I looked him in the eye and said the only Émile I cheer for is Zola
Zo-Zo-Zo-Zo Zola Zo-Zo-Zo-Zo Zola
And that is my quota quo-quo-quo-quo quota quo-quo-quo-quo quota
And Crosby swung away
Cust walked yet once more
The team failed to score
The outs totalled three
Then I Rule Five'd him and he waived me
Though he did keep the one guy I wanted to stay
That slick-fielding second sacker from South Dakota
Da-da-da-da-kota
Nerds will destroy the old-boy network
All those washed-up punch-drunk dinosaurs like Jim Bowden
Bo-bo-bo-bo-Bowden
Well I missed home too many times before
And I'd never ever been touched by Derek Jeter before
But PECOTA smiled and bade me understand
And said a short playoff series is like drawing a poker hand
Well I'm not the world's most recondite fan
But I reckon our GM must have a pretty good plan
And so does PECOTA
Pee-pee-pee-pee-PECOTA pee-pee-pee-pee-PECOTA
PECOTA pee-pee-pee-pee-PECOTA pee-pee-pee-pee-PECOTA
