A Shot of Glory

For Lance six weeks of beer and kids has been, I guess, enough.
He learned that kicking back and watching children can be tough
Compared to riding like a fiend for hours every day...
And so he's un-retired and he will make the Frenchmen pay
For every nasty thing they've said about each doping test
They're claiming that he failed. He said this week "this is the best"
Of all the ways that i could find to irritate the French,
And so I'm back in training and no longer on the bench.

Meanwhile, in San Francisco, Barry Bonds was back in play...
Or if he wasn't, he was somewhat closer every day,
And he was telling writers that he knew he still could hit,
And not, as he had been before, suggesting they eat...uh, their words.
And when they asked if coming back meant he would play full time,
He made a joke about his age and laughed, a sound sublime
In what had been a story of suspicion, lies, and blame...
So Barry, just like Lance, is back to play, again, his game.
Meanwhile, the falling Orioles shipped out their damaged hitter,
But Rafael Palmeiro says that he's no more a quitter
Than Lance has been or Barry is, so Rafe's coming back,
Despite the ridicule of fans who mounted an attack
So loud that he wore earplugs when he sauntered to the plate,
While two for twenty six with just one r.b.i. of late.

So what's the moral of this week's regenerated crew?
I guess old athletes much prefer the doing what they do
To hanging up their gloves and bats and taking off their spikes,
Or casting off their helmets and relinquishing their bikes
For days bereft of adulation, even if that comes
With leather-lunged contentions that the lot of them are bums

And cheaters, dopers, disappointments, gods with feet of clay
Who'd serve the public better if they'd simply go away.
It's hard, I guess, to leave the spotlight when you need to prove
The French are wrong or you are clean or you can find the groove
That will provide another shot of glory and acclaim,
A drug perhaps as strong as any anyone can name.