Game 7

The Yankees and the Red Sox faced each other Thursday night,
A wet dream for the media, an Ali-Frazier fight.
Two heavyweights that slugged it out were heading to the mound,
Martinez and the Rocket would decide the final round.

A matchup that went hand in hand, like Spielburg & Jurassic,
The feeding frenzied fans were sure that this would be a classic.

And so the hopes of Beantown fans were pinned on Pedro's arm,
"There ain't no way we lose tonight! on that we'd bet the fahm!"

The pinstripe faithful filled the place, and every eye was peeled,
As Roger touched the forehead of the Babe in center field.

The curse was there that fateful night that Pedro had to throw,
As Clemens went down weakly, Yankee bats were mute as snow.

The Rocket didn't have it as the Sox ran up the score,
When Torre took the ball from Rog, the beaners led by four.

And as the Boston batters finished kicking Rockets *ss,
They started painting "Champions" upon the Fenway grass.

This time, for sure, the Red Sox were about to win it all,
So Manny got his cell phone out and gave his dad a call.

"We're going to the Series!", Manny boasted to his dad,
"It's first and third with noone out, we're going to beat them bad."

Ramirez started smiling when Mussina took his place,
A strikeout and a doubleplay erased it from his face.

Giambi hit a dinger 'twas a welcome sight to see,
A solo shot that broke the ice, New York was down by three.

And as Mussina held the score Martinez did the same,
It looked as though the Boston nine were sure to win the game.

Then Ronan Tynan took the field, and belted out his song,
And nearly sixty-thousand stood to cheer and sing along.

Giambi answered with another homer for the crowd,
The Yanks were only down by two, the stadium got loud.

So Torre gave the ball to Wells and with it all our hopes,
When Ortiz parked one in the seats, the Yanks were on the ropes.

Giambi's clout was answered and the Sox tacked on a run,
The Yankee faithful needed outs, so Boomer got it done.

When Pedro toed the rubber in the bottom of the eighth,
The easy out to start it gave Matinez "super"faith.

So even though the Captain sent a double through the gap,
When Grady Little hit the mound, he couldn't shut his yap.

"If you don't let me finish this the Boston press will kill me!"
So Grady let him have it..... but Matsui slapped him silly.

A ground rule double set'em up on second and on third,
So when Posada waded in, the multitude was heard.

The House that Ruth built, at this moment, seemed to come alive,
Posada fists a double, now the score is five to five.

And somehow at that moment, every Yank & Beaner knew,
Mystique & Aura just showed up, perhaps the curse was true.

When Torre called Rivera like a thousand times before,
This time he needed mo from Mo, so Mo gave Torre more.

His critics said he'd lost his stuff, he wasn't quite as strong,
Three innings went Rivera ... and he proved the critics wrong,

So here in the eleventh, Grady Little thought a bit,
his brain deduced that Wakefield was impossible to hit.

He figured Mo was finished, and the perfect time for him,
To go with old reliable....... he gave the ball to Tim.

His rubber arm was legend and his knuckler did the dances,
With Mighty Wakefield on the mound, what were the Yankees chances?

He toed the mound, he shook his arm, and everything felt fine,
Then looking in at Aaron Boone he peered in for the sign,

So now Tim Wakefield holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Aaron's blow...

Oh somewhere is this fabled land the sun is shining bright,
Oh somewhere hearts are happy, and somewhere hearts are light,
In Boston fans are wailing, and they're cursing at the moon,
For there is no joy in Beantown thanks to Aaron Bleepin' Boone