Should there be even the slightest resemblance to anyone alive or no longer alive, it is purely coincidental.

And now the poem:

The wheels came off
and rolled
up to the plate
the throw at home
was far too late

“We pay him so much
just to save
the game,
but he blew the lead
once again he’s to blame!”

It’s hard to find a closer
an art
to be sure,
must have nerves of steel
throw strikes like a blur

But our closer, our guy,
he keeps
blowing the lead
we were far ahead
now we just bleed

When the closer implodes
it may drive you to
it can make you crazy
even puke in the sink

When the closer is shaky
your sure win
turns to loss
you just gotta remember
give him the toss!

Oh, what does it take
to be a closer
who’s good
gets the three outs
just like he should?

How come this guy
we got
who we pay so much money
is called by them
“Our sweet little honey?”

When the closer implodes
my blood pressure
so very high
I don’t even scream
instead I just cry

There must be a
support group
for fans who can’t cheer
who have to drown their sorrow
in such expensive beer

When your closer implodes
I know it
so well
You thought you’re in heaven
now you’re rotting in hell

Well I just want to say
we can’t keep
using a poser
starting tomorrow folks
let’s get a new closer!