The Ballad of Joe Torre

Joe Torre's prob'ly packed his bags. He's prob'ly called a car
To take him to another place than where the Yankees are.
It's not that he's discouraged. He's a pro. He knows the score...
The summer's long, the team will hit its stride, and furthermore
The pitching that's anemic will be healthy by and by,
So if Joe Torre's packed his bags, that's not the reason why.

He's made his plans for quiet days away from current work,
Because the guy who signs his checks, a man inclined to lurk
Beside the nearest microphone said just the other day
That he believes in Torre. Is there any other way
In which the boss could send a clearer message to poor Joe?
The Boss said he supports Joe Torre. Now he'll have to go.

You needn't be a baseball guy to understand the knell
Of doom as clear as any church's solemn funeral bell
When he or she who must be pleased presents you with a smile
And with a vote of confidence, it means that in a while
You might be working elsewhere or you might be sleeping late,
But you will not remain employed, regardless of how great
You've been before the vote occurred, regardless of the days
When you were winning everything and hauling in the praise
Of everyone who shook your hand or slapped you on the ass.
"You need a vote of confidence?" No thanks, my friend. I'll pass.

Oh, some of us are managers, and some of us are drones,
And some are World Bank honchos, yes, and some could pass as clones...
There are attorneys gen'ral, there are lesser clowns as well,
But any who receive a vote of confidence can tell
They'd better start to think about another dodge to try,
At least if they would work again, and here's the reason why:
As sure as fire is hot and cold's a property of ice,
That vote of confidence comes once. It's never coming twice.