| Lo, what passes from a prayer (Williams or Dimaggio?) How many times we heard Aunt Jemma cry And thought we'd send a letter, And, lo, the decades we heard her sigh Over who was truly better. You see, each day did Jemma's brother Rick And her husband Hank Argue who's best with a glove and stick A Bosock or a Yank. While not the sort to obsess mind you Over child's play and games, But the more she objected, the more it grew To wrack her boggled brains. Now Rick held for a most Splendid Splinter His homers, hits and runs. While Hank would counter with the Clipper, "A second fiddle to none!" And these debates would rage for hours, A seige with no advance. My aunt, poor soul, saw some heavy showers Rain in stats per chance. And so she asked her son, my cousin Paul, Who spent some time in college: "Now, is there anyone in that stately hall With a bit of knowledge?" Hence Paul checked through a million books, Though not quite practical this. And neither the graduate course he took: Data and its meta-analysis. But from time in philosophy 101 Paul grew clever to a fault, And knew that with your fuzzy question Came your fuzzy result. So at length he talked how we had to find What Leibniz is all about: "What's needed, Mom, is an Infinite Mind To sort the details out." Now, Paul assumed it all too heady stuff For an old girl to understand But my Aunt Jemma knew it well enough From the sparrows and the sand. So, eyes to heaven, did Aunt Jemma say: "Won't someone let me know, Please, Lord, grant me one peaceful day, Willliams or Dimaggio?" And she waited while days turned into days With nothing in reply. And while the years passed and turned in ways 'Til Death came stopping by. But once the critics panel reconvened At a cloud-like kitchen table Husband Hank and brother Rick explained That now they would be able To settle the debate once and for all And declare just what is so. The greatest gent in that era of ball: The Kid or Joltin' Joe. And, indeed, God heard Aunt Jemma's pleas Those many years ago, But not a day since was his mind at ease, For, alas, he did not know: "Yes, I have wrestled with this argument Ever since I heard it. I've even post-poned that Day of Judgment Until I reach this verdict." And so dear souls, "Go listen for the angelus Or go place another bet. I'm making a scale to weigh intangibles And haven't finished yet." And the Lord did reckon for the different parks Where each had spent his time, And he reckoned for their colleagues remarks About them in their prime. Ah, but 'twas far more trouble than it seemed To tally up the difference. Measures depend on what facts are gleaned And the type of reference! For example: one day Ted got four hits, The pitcher had the flu. The Lord thought not to give full credit, But what was he to do? Another time Joe cost his club a run When he dropped a fly. But could he rightly blame it on the sun, For splashing in his eye? So now Jem worries what the Lord will do, And will it be a crisis, When comes the matter of His going through Man's virtues and his vices. And hearing this though Auntie made no peep, The Lord had this to say: "Humanity?...Well, it'll just have to keep At least for one more day." And now we see what may come to pass Or not, as cases go, My Aunt Jemma a simple prayer did ask, Williams or Dimaggio? |
 |
|
 |
|