It looked extremely rocky for the Indians last night.
A loss would bring off-season blues; a win they'd be alright.
They gave the ball to J-Rod, a tall and lanky righty.
His presence on the hill was strong, maybe even mighty.

The Dodgers countered with Joe Burns, who peered with strong cold eyes,
Which gave some fellas looking on hope for the older guys.
If he throws well and brings this squad another victory,
Then, they thought, we'll do it too, next year, just wait and see.

The Tribe struck first with RBI by Matthews and Horan.
But five empty frames would pass before they'd tack some more on.
Ol' Burnsie scattered six hits, 'til the seventh rolled around.
By then, Dodgers led by five. They could almost feel the crown.

No, it wasn't brilliant for the Indians that day.
The score stood 7-2 with just one inning left to play.
Witalec took a mighty swing, but popped the ball to third.
And shouts across the diamond of, "That's one," were loudly heard.

The next two batters reached base, Roberts and Burnetter too,
But Burnsie buckled down and got a fly to right from Q.
Two on, two out, down five, and all grim-faced was team Bones,
For the fat lady was warming up her big and dulcet tones.

Next up was clean up man Horan, and that's no misnomer,
But, as far as I know, no man's hit a five-run homer.
From his bat came a high pop that drifted back behind third.
Game over? Not so fast, as we entered the absurd.

The Dodgers had played error-free through six and two thirds innings.
Steady, solid glove work had been central to their winnings.
It may have been the shortstop's ball, but third called, so no matter,
Except that when the ball hit ground, it brought another batter.

The bags were full and to the plate strode righty Nick Matthews,
Like two nights before when the game fell on a two-bag ruse.
Matthews singled, scoring two, and the next three batters reached
On a hit, a walk, a hit by pitch...Burns' dominance had been breached.

Score stood 7-6, three on, the Tribe had batted around.
The grandstands froze -- five or six guys -- you couldn't hear a sound.
The Dodgers had a choice to make; it was now do or die.
Burns had thrown a hell of a game, but now said "Mick's our guy."

In Monday's game, Mick nearly threw a complete game shutout.
In he came, bases full, looking for that one last put out.
Earlier, bags full of Blue, he'd hit a gap shot double.
And here he was again, could he get them out of trouble?

Before the series started, I bet that some predictor
Said Witalec v. Novak would bring the final victor.
They might have had Greg on the mound, and Mick with bat in hand,
But here they were, with roles reversed, the setting still quite grand.

Oh somewhere near old Albany are men of much renown;
And horses run, and tourists come, and Giants wear a crown;
And somewhere children prep for school and politicians shout.
But there was no joy for one squad, the last Indian had struck out.

Curt Tucker


-- Edited by ctucker on Thursday 28th of August 2014 07:30:09 PM