An ode to Opening Day at America’s Most Beloved Ballpark
‘Twas the Opening at Fenway, when all through the park
The coaches were prepping, in this historic landmark;
The jerseys were hung by the clubbies with care,
In hopes that a victory soon would be there;
The Sox fans were nestled all snug on the T;
With chants and vulgarity at a raucous degree;
They all made their way toward the lit CITGO sign,
for an outing at Fenway, singing Sweet Caroline,
When out there in Kenmore arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their trollies to see what was the matter.
Away to street level, they flew like a flash,
Up the stairs and escalators, expecting a clash.
When what to their wondering eyes did appear,
But a giant coach bus speeding by, in high gear,
With a bearded bald driver, giving off swag and aura,
They knew in a moment he must be Alex Cora.
More rapid than fastballs his players they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Raffy! now, Trevor! now Breggy, and, Wilyer!
On, Connor! on, Tristan! on, Jarren and Refsnyder!
To the fair side of Pesky! O’er top of the Wall!
Now mash away! mash away! mash away all!”
As pitches are hurled at velocities high,
When they meet with a bat, taking off to the sky;
So up to the clubhouse the hitters they flew
With a bag of equipment, and their manager too—
And then, with a rapping, they heard on the street
The tapping and clacking from the spikes on each cleat.
As they headed up Brookline, on their way to the field,
Out the bus came Sir Cora, his temperament steeled.
Dressed in his uniform, donning number 13,
His game plan was ready, every play unforeseen;
A sack full of baseballs he had flung on his back,
And a fungo for practice, some fly balls to track.
His jersey—how it crinkled! adorned with Red Sox!
The fans—how they clamored around him in flocks!
He held up his hand,, making everyone halt,
The beard on his chin, dotted pepper and salt;
A sunflower seed wad packed tight in his cheek,
As he spit out the shells with impressive technique;
He had a wide grin , the cap ‘top his head steady
And make no mistake, the fans knew he was ready.
Once a player himself, he’s been through this before
Now he’s at the wheel, the man leading the corps
A wink of his eye and a nod of his head
Gave fans the assurance they had nothing to dread;
He stood on the corner, his mission was clear,
Sox Nation—they parted, a path did appear
And knowing the fans were all set for the game,
He doffed his ballcap, Jersey Street now his aim;
At the top of the way were some Cardinals to slaughter
So rejoicing Sox Nation would hear loud Dirty Water
He sprang toward the dugout, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew with the speed of a missile.
But they heard him exclaim, ‘fore he bounded away—
“Happy Opening at Fenway, let’s get the win today!”