The green of the outfield, the faces of fans
The crack of the bat and the shake of the stands
The rounding of bases, the shagging of flies
The flaming of rivalries from times gone by(s).

The gulping down hot dogs and swigging of beer
The wave and The Beard and the roar and the cheer
The innings-gone-extra, the chase of the stats
The gorgeousness of all those pitch slaying bats.

The Dropkick(ing) Murphys, and Sweet Caroline
The Monster, Ted’s seat and the old Citgo Sign.
The pole named for Pesky, The Nation, ‘04,
Pedroia, Josh Beckett, Gonzalez, and more.

Its baseball time people, the season of great:
of heartbreak and triumph, perfection and fate.
Of eternal hoping, of slumps and of luck.
And above all, ALL else— Dear Yankees: “YOU SUCK.”

GO SOX.  That is all.