Thank you all for the excessively kind comment and email responses. Your exuberant reaction encouraged me to publish a version of this poem in The Seattle Times. I had to edit the language to suit the different audience, but I hope the spirit remains the same.
Of all the arms of all the men of all the teams that play
by Jordan Connors
Of all the arms, of all the men, of all the teams that play,
The wall attacked our phenom's left, and crashed our hopes away.
His WAR was ever-rising, just months past twenty-five,
But seemed to need revising, after a crashing fearless dive.
Silva yelled "Ay dios mio," Sweeney screamed "Good God!"
Ichiro said "Oyamaa," Bedard gave a subtle nod.
Rick Rizzs exclaimed "the kid is hurt," amidst the somber mood,
Vegas said "it's over" and PECOTA said "you're screwed!"
The blogosphere was flooded with reaction to the stings,
Of the impending resurrection of all flying things,
Poochie typed "NONONO," OlSalty wrote "OH FUCK!"
Teej said "That looked rough." Royal curve quipped "OH FUCK."
ChaseB banged out "It's over," Robert put "JESUS FUCK"
JBell wrote "Sell Sell Sell," darmok said "Fuck Fuck."
joof opined "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK...
The clubhouse was quiescent, as the players huddled in,
Silva had a sandwich, but nobody had a grin.
Spirits large hours before, were shrinking ever small,
A loss suffered to the Tigers and one suffered to the wall.
The moments passed, the silence crept, encircling as a tomb,
As if UZR personified had died there in that room.
Then suddenly, from the jacuzzi, rose a man named Ken,
Pausing from his manicure, dropping "Just for Men."
He put his cap on backwards and he declared "Wait a minute.
The season's just half over, we've got plenty time to win it."
"I once was a center fielder; I was only twenty-five,
When my season was upended by a crashing fearless dive."
"We didn't have PECOTA, but the papers said we're dead.
With the baseball gods against us, we stared at the ground and said:"
"Of all the arms, of all the men, of all the teams that play,
The wall attacked our phenom's left, and crashed our hopes away."
"But a funny thing happened on the way to last place,
Our misfortune brought us closer, set us off in a chase."
"We trailed the same old Angels, draped in Devil's red,
And five-and-a-half, was thirteen games instead."
"But thirteen became eight, then six, then two, then finally none.
Then we clipped the Angel wings with nine runs to their one."
"So stand up, drop that sandwich Silva, now's the time to choose,
Will we listen to PECOTA or will we refuse to lose?"
They didn't say a word, but no words needed saying,
As they rose to their feet, like swords to a slaying.
Griffey channeled Edgar, and Gutz channeled The Kid.
Felix channeled Randy and the way his slider slid.
Loafie channeled Cora, with his endless hustling grit,
Ronny channeled Sojo and his ever-famous hit.
Langerhans took Coleman, and Branyan channeled Bone,
Aardsma took Ayala, till he heard the clubhouse groan.
So DA channeled Nellie, and Lowe channeled Risley,
Olson took the Sheriff and let his chin grow grizzly.
Rob and Kenji channeled Wilson, Hannahan took Blowers,
Bedard invited interviews that lasted nearly hours.
Ichiro channeled Tino, and those home runs came in handy,
Wash said "bless 'the Bos,' but I'm also taking Randy!"
Niehaus channeled Niehaus and Wak took Sweet Lou,
And Z traded some Newfields for a Benes or two.
And so it was that on that day, despite the gruesome fall,
The Mariners came together like a phenom and a wall.