A Fragment from A. Pope’s Detroitiad
Astros 4
Tigers 3
contributed by NeilT
Send words, Muse, so that I in turn may sing
Of rostered bats, oiled leather, and spiking
stars. Detroit! Whose graceful Ausmus
Came with fair words to steal BudGirl from us.
Send forth in orange ships on green-grass seas
The noble nine (or ten I guess, for these
AL games confuse me), with many-eyed
Peacock at the helm, Bengals to defy.
And he whose smallish height so like a flea
But sports the grace of proud nobility
Had been so cruelly struck upon the hand
Crushing, bruising, leaving his oar unmanned
Awoke, and to his second base arose
(At least as high as other players’ nose)
And forth with bat, in orange-hued array
Against the Tigg’s Verlander came to play.
And in the first, noble Altuve hits
A single, then to second steals, the mitts
And foes’ throws useless, and again useless,
As pitches wild drives hero home hitless.
But Bengals answer, with Avila’s score
In the bottom of the second, Cat’s roar,
And roar again, when in the inning four,
Bengal homers and grasps the higher score.
But noble Wotan, his Astros watching,
From Olympus to his players reaching,
Inspires Altuve to hit to bring Hoes home,
And then from third god-touched quick stealing come.
But watching Venus, Tiger’s goddess whore,
Who in eighth’s top let even up the score,
On errors by Singleton and Villar
And a new game begins for Cats and Stars!
Never again will we see a greater game
Played by short-lived man for another team
With foot and bat upon the grass-green sea
Through extra innings played great Altuve.
But lofty Jose could not bring alone
With 4-for-5, two steals (including home),
Two runs, swiftest feet, and an RBI
The green laurels of winged victory.
And in the tenth was stranded, and so on
To the eleventh frame, pitched close by Downs,
Veras, Qualls, Sipp, Buchanan in relief
But waiting for one run to set us free.
Comes the serviceable catcher Castro,
Service rendered as the backstop Astro,
In golden greaves, breastplate, helmet of war!
Now by the plate lifts up his mighty spear!
And with his flashing god-breathing swing
Hardy’s pitch on a line to center dings!
And in Illium’s plain that sweat-soaked day
Sends Tigers home and Stros to victory.