To the Cubs - a poem

This started out as a way to tease my sister (who is in love with Mike Fontenot), but didn't quite end that way.


To the Cubs

The boys from LA are coming to get you:
Torre, Manny, and the crew.
One can coach, one can swing.
Look at their fingers and you'll find rings,
Something no Cub has ever seen.

A hundred years and no title to be shown,
Though many great players Wrigley has known.
A long drought other teams have had,
But recent wins have made Cubs’ fans sad.
A curse no more for Boston and across town,
Leaving those on the north side to frown.

Will the curse of the goat cease to be?
Unlike in the year two-thousand three
When hopes were high and the Series in sight,
And fans wished with all their might.
Five more outs and the boys were in,
Playing for a chance to finally win.
But fate stepped in and dealt her hand,
As Bartman reached out from the stands.

Now you will say it’s their turn again
And the Cubbies just have to win.
Look at the roster and you’ll see why
The boys in blue will soon have a pennant flying high.
Lee, Zambrano, and some guy called “The-Riot”
May give Chicago a real reason to riot.

1060 West Addison is the place to be
If a special thing you want to see.
American baseball at its best
As a team is on a quest,
To do something few alive remember,
And see the Cubs win past September.