UPDATE: The game has been postponed due to rain. There will be a twi-night (single admission) doubleheader tomorrow beginning at 4:30pm, with the second game beginning 20 minutes after the first game ends.
The Texas Rangers are coming to Baltimore and they are undefeated, having swept first Boston and then Seattle. It's raining, our bullpen is depleted and the mainstream Orioles media are furthering their complicity in the grand Troy Patton conspiracy by reporting his presence in Baltimore. He may even be added to the roster, and appear in a game, but we all know that no man named Troy Patton will be wearing that uniform even if he does pitch.
I wrote a little poem the last time the Rangers came to play in Baltimore. Longtime readers of CC may recall it from a game thread last year. I hope you'll forgive me for reposting it now, because really, it seems like the perfect way to get fired up. The poem is called:
We F----ed The Texas Rangers
In the not-too-distant past, just before the All-Star Break
The Baltimore Orioles journeyed with malice
To the land where they all eat steak
In particular, some suburb of Dallas.
The trek seemed bleak; the team on the ropes, reeling
For with the loss column we were no strangers
But fate was to us some good fortune dealing
Instead we f***ed the Texas Rangers.
The series got started. Their manager snorted coke.
(Joking about that will never get old)
And the fans of Texas left us this joke:
A first place team with sixteen thousand tickets sold.
At first so familiar: our starter got rocked
The only question: how high the score?
But Texas dipped into the bullpen, clocked
Throwing the gas against poor Baltimore.
Yet the end was not writ, for they loaded the bases!
It seemed so unlikely if you checked the score later
That's why disbelief played out on their faces
When they hit our poor Felix, and walked our man Tater.
No matter how many myriad dangers,
That night we f***ed the Texas Rangers.
A new game the next night, though 'twas the same story
Early in the game our poor starter was blasted
But none of it mattered thanks to a grand slam from Corey
In the ninth inning to tie; so into the tenth the game lasted
And who could imagine that our hero'd be Jake?
No, not Arrieta, but rather Jake Fox
Whose solo homer the difference did make.
He wasn't (I don't think) even wearing high socks.
Though three years prior, 30-3 vexed us,
That night 'twas different: instead we f***ed Texas.
In the third game of the set, the Rangers fans sung
For though he was in about four hundredth place
They cheered some hit milestone for their Michael Young
Plus they were all excited to see their new ace.
By trade they'd acquired the mighty Cliff Lee
Who by rights ought to have pounded us to sand
But Orioles batters went up swinging at the first pitch they'd see
And triumph on that night belonged to Birdland.
Last place and us ain't exactly strangers,
But none of that mattered when we f***ed up the Rangers.
Going into the last game, they'd won not a one
Surely against us they'd expected to cruise
They had to salvage that Sunday or else they'd win none.
And since Arrieta rocked it they weren't able to choose.
Rangers fans wailed, gnashed, lamented and wept
Four easy wins had vanished to thin air.
Though the opposite was more likely, it was they who were swept
Almost it was safe for O's fans to care.
And so, bottom line, the moral of the story
Even if bad baseball and us aren't strangers
In a new season you can find lots of glory
So let's all cheer hard to f*** up the Rangers.
(I rewrote the ending a little bit. Go O's!)