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Mariners shoot albatross, lose 8-6

of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariners came back to their own Country

MLB: Texas Rangers at Seattle Mariners Lindsey Wasson-USA TODAY Sports

It is the Seattle Mariners,
And they stoppeth one of three.
‘By thy short black beard and intense eyes,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

The pub’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of tab;
My friends are met, the feast is set:
May’st hear the merry din.’

They hold him with a skinny hand,
‘There was a game,’ quoth they.
‘Hold off! unhand me, bearded loon!’
Eftsoons his hand dropt they.

They hold him with their intense eyes-
the Pub-Goer stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariners hath their will.

The Pub-Goer sat on a stone:
Forced to listen by a curse
And thus spake on that ancient team,
The bright-eyed Mariners.

‘The game was cheered, the lineup cleared,
Merrily did we bat
A home run here, some walks there
And our score was nice and fat.

Marco came up upon the mound,
Dealing his changeup came he!
And he shone bright, glove on his right
The Rangers lost at sea.

Pitch count rising every inning
Till over 90 in the fifth-’
The Pub-Goer here beat his breast,
For he really was quite miffed.

His friends hath drank in the pub,
Red as roses are they
Nodding their heads singing
Enrapt in horseplay.

The Pub-Goer beat his breast,
Forced to listen by a curse
And thus spake on that ancient team,
The bright-eyed Mariners.

And now the moon-blast came, and it
Was far and strong:
Solak swung with his o’ertaking bat,
Errors pushed the inning along.

With sloppy play and clumsy throw,
As the runners moved with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of our foe,
And forward bends his head,
The game drove fast, loud roared the pack,
And to the bullpen we fled.

And now there came a double rainbow,
But the bats grew wondrous cold:
While opportunities piled high,
In the city of emerald.

And through the innings the weak hits
Some became quite bored:
Nor numbers of crooked or straight-
Were placed upon the scoreboard.

Runners runners every where,
In a game that started great;
Runners runners every where,
Nor any across the plate.

At length did cross a run,
Through Suárez’s bat it came;
As if it had been a walk-off
We hailed it with much fame.

It came after calls we had to eat,
Balls low and away called strikes.
The fans did roar in a thunder-fit;
For poor Julio, we had never seen the likes.

Baseball Savant

A good opportunity had sprung up behind;
Yet did no runs follow,
The bases loaded with two outs,
Tom Murphy came up hollow.

Through mist and cloud, cold and cowed,
Drew Steck started inning nine;
He gave up two, and then was pulled,
Yohan followed and was fine.

‘God save thee, Seattle Mariners!
From the game, that plagues thee thus!-
Why error’st thou so?’- With my poor throws
I shot the Albatross.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the W, the aLbatross
About my neck was hung.

Since then, at uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till our ghastly tale is told,
The heart within us burns.

O Pub-Goer! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ‘twas the fans themselves
Scarce seemèd there to be.

O sweeter than the winning-feast,
‘Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the park
With a goodly company!-

To walk together to the park,
And all together play,
While to the seats the fans bend
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!

The Mariners, whose eyes are intense,
Whose jerseys with dirt are stained
Are not gone: and now the Pub-Goer
Forever to them is chained

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.