Friday, September 28, 2007

Metropolitans, prepare to meet thy maker

Tomorrow my favorite baseball team plays its most important game in 14 years and Adam Eaton is our starting pitcher. There will be liveblogging involved, and prodigious daytime drinking. Bracing for this necessitates a speech. I'm thinking Shakespeare, slightly modified:

By Jove, I am not covetous for Pennants,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cheesesteaks;
It yearns me not if men my jerseys wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet the playoffs,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from Jersey:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Jimmy Rollins, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not win the NL East in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to lose with us.
This day is called the feast of William Penn:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Utley.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is the 29th of September:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Championship day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Pat Burrell, Cole Hamels,
Rowand and Ruiz, Kendrick and Lohse,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Championship Day shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in Philadelphia now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That watched with us upon NL East Championship day.

See you bitches tomorrow.

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