This year has been long, this year has been grueling
And we’ve all been given one hell of a schooling
It started with hope, we got many a win
Now we feel like dopes, and the team’s in the bin
We really ought to have learned, so many would think
That our luck would soon turn, and we’d be in the sink
That the hot Mitch of April, and the Marco of May
And the No-Hitter Big Maple, were not here to stay
We started out strong, we let ourselves dream
It lasted so long, we believed in the team
First we kept our guard up, kept our doubt at the ready
But they just kept winning and kept themselves steady
Despite all of ourselves, and our instinctive misgivings
We put our doubts on the shelves, and had more fun just living
We bought into the fun, and the run, and the sun
Thought it would never be done, it was second to none
Oh, we should have known, that it would not last
That our fate had been sewn, and the die had been cast
As June passed us by, and July came upon us
The A’s began to fly, and won to our disgust
Everything that was right, began to go wrong
The good became blight, the chords a sad song
With each game in the eighth, each rally was stemmed
Some tried to keep faith, some cried Same old M’s!
As the odds began to wane, and the sun began to set
We all passed around blame, of expectations not met
It was Seager’s fault! Or Scott’s! Or Dipoto’s!
Blame it all on Segura! He’s too eager for photos!
These are all bad takes, you can stop it right there
It’s not all the fault of our GM with great hair
The process was sound, and they’ve won seventy games
The team has been downed, there’s no need for the blame
Last year they’d have won, we wouldn’t be fools
But that’s how it goes, baseball is cruel
Maybe there really is hope for the month of September
But I just can’t believe, so I’ll choose to remember
Remember when Denard laced that clutch double?
When Edwin saved fifty, and Scott was in trouble?
Remember the high fives, the grinning, and spinning
How easy it all seems to come when they’re winning
When Mitch hit the dinger, got Safeco up screaming?
He felled the Angels, and Scioscia was steaming?
There are always good times, you need only to seek
Look between the lines, when things look most bleak
We’ve learned how to do this, and we’ll do it once more
Though each losing season, we’ll always want more
Please, let this be the last, it’s sure getting old
It’s getting old fast, and my heart’s getting cold
I’m at the end of my rope, I’m beginning to think
It’s quite hard to cope, and I’m starting to sink
I’ll soon go to bed, and I may need a drink
Playoffs in my head, please don’t let me blink