Dirge for the Red Sox

The streets are full of potholes that could swallow up a car.
They say the ocean's rising, too, which means that if you are
In some small town along the coast, you'd better stay inside,
Lest higher, warmer water come and take you for a ride.

But all of this and more I wouldn't likely take to heart
If only Boston's Sox had made a halfway decent start.
The weather scarcely troubles me, although it has been poor.
The winter's overstayed its time, but I could handle more,
If only Boston's baseball team had left the blocks in style,
Instead of spotting everyone a lead of half a mile.

The pitchers can't get batters out; the batters haven't hit.
The owner bought a soccer team, so maybe he should quit.
The manager's a patient man, or so I have been told,
But sitting in the cellar can most certainly get old.

I've heard that in a lengthy race, the tortoise gets the win,
But even crawling turtles must remember to begin…

All right. I'll grant it's early. Panic's prob'ly premature.
All manner of achievements may perhaps be still in store
For this year's Boston Red Sox, crowned the champions before
The season even started by the folks who know for sure…
Of course those folks had UConn's women winning once again.
They thought Ohio State or Kansas would lead all the men
When basketball was finished, but it turned out they were wrong…

I know, I know, the baseball season's very, very long…
But still, the happy promise for which April's always known
Has so far seemed the sort of soil in which not much is grown,
At least for those who follow what the Red Sox do each night,
It's plenty to convince them T.S. Eliot was right.
When he concluded April was the cruelest month of all…
I hope we can look back at this while laughing in the fall.