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Game 110: Blue Jays (57-55) @ Orioles (43-66), 7:05pm

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With apologies to Yeats.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre,

The Orioles cannot heed the manager;

Things fall apart, the rotation cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The AL East tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned.

The best lack all health, while the worst

Are full of passionate suckitude.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image from the Norfolk Tides

Troubles my sight: a waste of a right hand;

(What pitches with no movement,

A cutter blank and pitiless as the sun,)

Is moving its slow fastball, while all about it

Wind shadows of the salivating opposing hitters.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That fourteen years of losing teams

Vexed us to nightmare by a lack of talent,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Baltimore to pitch?