AAOP: The Wreck of the Cohen MetsGMs

There are no Paintz mucking this puppy up. Click the links for Paintz I made and images I borrowed that'll help tell the story, but I wanted the lyrics to flow without the interruption of a bunch of images. Table below has the team as constructed, with the assumption that lots of MiLB deals will be handed out for depth, as was done last year, but hopefully with fewer catastrophic injuries. It seems polls have disappeared, so imagine mine was pithy, yet insightful. Enjoy!

To the tune of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, obviously:


The legend lives on from the Mets fans on down
Of the big park they called Field at Citi.
The park, they all sing, never gives up a ring
When the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a team of sad sacks and Steve Cohen's fat stacks
No one stepped up to take on the challenge
So Sandy stayed on and brought 'long Bryn, his son,
To find players Steve's doubloons could scavenge.
The team was the pride of the National side
Of New York, a town too tough for many.
As the big ball teams go, it was harder than most
To succeed in the face of LOLMetsing.
Concluding a deal for a couple straight steals,
Sandy poached two superstars from Cleveland
But now a year on, those good vibes were gone,
'Twas bad play and bad breaks they'd been feelin'.
The team on the field was a mess all around.
Was in first, but they ended up failing
And every man knew, as the GM did too
T'was the Ratcoon of June that come stealin'.
McNeil laid the blame on Lindor for the shame
But the shortstop makes bank so he's stayin'
So Baez would sign on the dotted line.
At the keystone it was he'd be playin'.
To clear second base, Sandy found a new place
"Cano, to Pittsburgh I'll ship ya"
It'd take Squirrel and Smith, and a kid he'd part with, he said
"Baty, it's been good to know ya"
The Pirates were told sixty-one was too bold,
And thirty-eight was too low for their payroll,
So they took on Cano, sent back Kuhl and Difo,
And saved the wreck of the Cohen Mets GM.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the ball gets lifted to the outfield?
The Mets GMs all say they'd have shunned Jason Bay
If Suzuki and Schwarber they could wield.
Kris Bryant they say at the hot corner'd play,
And Jon Gray would join as a pitcher.
They'd bring back Walker, Carrasco, deGrom, and Thor,
And the fool on the Hill who's named Richard.
As the bullpen rolls, the service years toll,
As we leave the condo for the mansion.
Old Aaron Loup steams toward his Busch Light dreams;
The arm barn is full of sportsmen.
And farther below, on the farm will grow
A crop of young arms who can fill in.
RP arms come and go as the GMs all know
Paying for relief innings brings ruin.
In a musty old hall in Flushing they prayed
Over Piazza's catching equipment.
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man in the GM contingent.
The legend lives on from the Mets fans on down
Of the ball park they called Field of Citi.
The Mets, they all said, never leave them for dead.
A parade in November'd be pretty!


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