Saturday, September 29, 2007

A poem of sorts for a team out-of-sorts

Who's to blame
For all this pain
That's making Mets fans
Want to toss their pans
First at Willie
With his moves, oh so nilly.
And then at Minaya,
Who created straits so dire.
With the season done
And the team ho-hum
There's little left to do
But stew.

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