A San Francisco Giants fan
Who watched his guys play opening day
Might wish he didn’t walk but ran
From Dodger Stadium in L.A.
As though it weren’t enough they’d lost,
His brains came close to getting tossed
Pursuers in the parking lot
Caught up. One smashed him in the head
For rhyme or reason not worth squat.
And might as well have wished him dead.
Two weeks out cold, he might be close
In induced status, comatose.
Who are these creeps who prowl the seats
And think they’re adjuncts to the game?
I doubt they’ve worn a pair of cleats,
And now at last to claim some fame
They hurt someone who booed their team
And dream, perhaps, of self-esteem.
Enough, though, trying to calculate—
Two negatives aren’t always plus.
In warm-ups let them take the plate,
And help the team and fans like us.
The bullpen pitches at their head
Unnerving bean balls hitters dread.
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