Happy Hendersonmas
- Thread starter MAVA
- Start date
LOL at this -- classic!:
Twas the Night Before Hendersonmas
Twas the night before Hendersonmas and all through Oakland Coliseum
Rickey stole second, cause Carlton Fisk couldn't see 'im.
Tim Hulett was guarding the third baseline with care,
For he knew that fast Rickey soon would be there.
Dick Schofield was nestled all dug in at short,
With double-play visions Rickey soon would abort.
As the scorekeeper pondered "An error or hit?"
Rickey led from the bag, timing Mike Witt.
When out in the bleachers arose such a clatter,
Rickey didn't have time to see what was the matter.
Away to 2nd base he flew like a flash,
Past Davey Lopes and his giant moustache.
Leading off of 1st base near the freshly cut lawn,
Charlie Hough blinked his eye, and with that he was gone.
A throw down to 2nd from the arm of Don Slaught,
But he knew for a fact our man Rick can't be caught.
Always playing with style, but not to be garish,
He could run the bases twice before once by Lance Parrish
Flying 'round the bases, his legs heaven sent,
Avoiding the tag by shortstop Bucky Dent.
"On Lansford! On Weiss! On Steinbach and Belcher!
On Phillips, On Cobra, and why is Bob Welch here?"
Jumping over the wall, he laughed just a little,
As he took a home run ball away from Ron Kittle
A shot down the line, past third base, into left;
Corralled and collected by the King of the Theft;
The runner was waved, he was seeking advance;
But the crowd, they were sure that this man had no chance
The runner slid into home, a clouding of dust;
But sadly his gambit had been but a bust;
The ball had arrived, as if delivered by jet;
Out at the plate! Out was George Brett!
Dressed in gold and green, from his head to his feet,
Covered in dirt, with a gleem off his cleat.
Though with frostbitten toes, from a cold bag of ice,
Rickey still beat the throw, from Ron Karkovice
Jim Sundberg tried, and so did Bob Boone,
But throwing him out would not happen soon.
Vince Coleman's good, Lou Brock even better,
But none compare to the man from the team with one letter.
With crumpled batting glove held tight in his fist,
He gets the sign from LaRussa with a flick of the wrist.
That base is yours, you're in the clear, Rickey,
Who's gonna tag you out? Not Fred Manrique.
He's the best leadoff man ever, better than Cobb,
Just thinking about him makes Rich Gedman sob
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He was on his way to third, what every catcher dreads.
Carney Lansford gets the greenlight on a 3 and 0 count,
A smash up the middle just past Robin Yount.
Rounding third base Rickey heads for the plate,
Sliding head first, the Gorman Thomas throw late!
The Athletics have won! to his teammates high fives!
To be the greatest ever is all Rickey strives.
But I heard him exclaim, as the Brewers were reeling,
"Happy Hendersonmas to all, and to all a good stealing!"
Twas the Night Before Hendersonmas
Twas the night before Hendersonmas and all through Oakland Coliseum
Rickey stole second, cause Carlton Fisk couldn't see 'im.
Tim Hulett was guarding the third baseline with care,
For he knew that fast Rickey soon would be there.
Dick Schofield was nestled all dug in at short,
With double-play visions Rickey soon would abort.
As the scorekeeper pondered "An error or hit?"
Rickey led from the bag, timing Mike Witt.
When out in the bleachers arose such a clatter,
Rickey didn't have time to see what was the matter.
Away to 2nd base he flew like a flash,
Past Davey Lopes and his giant moustache.
Leading off of 1st base near the freshly cut lawn,
Charlie Hough blinked his eye, and with that he was gone.
A throw down to 2nd from the arm of Don Slaught,
But he knew for a fact our man Rick can't be caught.
Always playing with style, but not to be garish,
He could run the bases twice before once by Lance Parrish
Flying 'round the bases, his legs heaven sent,
Avoiding the tag by shortstop Bucky Dent.
"On Lansford! On Weiss! On Steinbach and Belcher!
On Phillips, On Cobra, and why is Bob Welch here?"
Jumping over the wall, he laughed just a little,
As he took a home run ball away from Ron Kittle
A shot down the line, past third base, into left;
Corralled and collected by the King of the Theft;
The runner was waved, he was seeking advance;
But the crowd, they were sure that this man had no chance
The runner slid into home, a clouding of dust;
But sadly his gambit had been but a bust;
The ball had arrived, as if delivered by jet;
Out at the plate! Out was George Brett!
Dressed in gold and green, from his head to his feet,
Covered in dirt, with a gleem off his cleat.
Though with frostbitten toes, from a cold bag of ice,
Rickey still beat the throw, from Ron Karkovice
Jim Sundberg tried, and so did Bob Boone,
But throwing him out would not happen soon.
Vince Coleman's good, Lou Brock even better,
But none compare to the man from the team with one letter.
With crumpled batting glove held tight in his fist,
He gets the sign from LaRussa with a flick of the wrist.
That base is yours, you're in the clear, Rickey,
Who's gonna tag you out? Not Fred Manrique.
He's the best leadoff man ever, better than Cobb,
Just thinking about him makes Rich Gedman sob
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
He was on his way to third, what every catcher dreads.
Carney Lansford gets the greenlight on a 3 and 0 count,
A smash up the middle just past Robin Yount.
Rounding third base Rickey heads for the plate,
Sliding head first, the Gorman Thomas throw late!
The Athletics have won! to his teammates high fives!
To be the greatest ever is all Rickey strives.
But I heard him exclaim, as the Brewers were reeling,
"Happy Hendersonmas to all, and to all a good stealing!"
