A poem by Mark Canha

Hi everyone, this is Mark Canha. You may know me as that annoying guy on the A’s with the sideburns, or for going .050/.136/.200 in 22 career plate appearances against Félix Hernández. Lookout Landing commissioned me to write tonight’s recap, but all I heard was “please grace us with your immense poetry skills”.

I know what you’re thinking. Mark, did you write this during the game? Yes I did. Is this technically against MLB rules? Not sure, but I’ve always been someone who likes to disrupt the status quo. Please light a candle and become centered enough to properly digest my work.

Tonight is a Saturday, my A’s take Seattle

Their year-long march is ending, but still we must battle

Before the game starts I sit at my locker

“Which Noah Baumbach film is best?” I silently ponder

The Cascadia fall clings to my skin like a mold

“Mark,” say my teammates, “It’s really not that cold”

I laugh and remind them that fortune favors the bold

With the flick of a wrist I put on my attire

First my socks then my cleats, then I become an ice climber

A full ski mask may not seem necessary

But when you’re Mark Canha, your thoughts are contrary

The outfit is sleek and warming, and dare I say savvy

I take great enjoyment in making Seattle fans crabby

On tonight’s lineup card I am written next to center field

I play lots of positions; many swords I do wield

The game on the field begins shortly thereafter

In my opinion, Stephen Malkmus is a musical master

Our starter is Brett Anderson, his pitch arsenal is quirky

This is a good time to remind you that I went to Berkeley

As the innings progress things look good for green and gold

“Mark, you’re scaring the children,” is something I am told

Nevertheless, I take my first at-bat

I can only fly out to left field as my launch angle falls flat

Marco Gonzales, I must say, is quite a good pitcher

All of the furniture in my loft is made out of wicker

Gonzales has great command, his changeup devastating

She sure does hate it, but I call my wife m’lady

People say that I have the energy of an artisanal Roger

This video of weird kissing gets me all hot and bothered

We score our lone run in the third, a solo shot from Laureano

It reminds me of this bone marrow that I ate in Chicago

Anderson throws five, then gives way to Petit

I studied Econ in at Berkeley. I know, pretty sweet

Petit hands over to Diekman, and then to Luzardo

The Mariners can’t manage a run, I’m wearing a full parka tomorrow

From there we play out the string, like I do on my guitar

Have you ever heard of R.E.M.? I love their work on the sitar

Photo by Rich Schultz/Getty Images

We win the game, Seattle sinks deeper into depression

What did I contribute? More of a comment than a question

I reach base twice though neither time can I score

I was a bit distracted all night thinking of speakeasies to explore

After handshakes on the mound I can jaunt around this great city

All my opinions are good, those who disagree, I pity

My heart is full in Seattle, I can drink hipster coffee

When I try to hug Bob Melvin he always says “Get off me”

Photo by Michael Zagaris/Oakland Athletics/Getty Images

In a few short days we will begin our postseason

When my wife eventually leaves me I will have her arrested for treason

My name is Mark Canha, tonight I was your guest poet

I hear good things about the Mariners’ future, be a real shame if they blow it