5/3/05 – A Buddha vs. Maroth

In preparation for tonight’s game against the (Mac OS X) Tigers, Jose turns to William Blake’s “The Tiger” for metric inspiration. Jose loves this poem. Admittedly, he was originally introduced to it in a Spiderman comic book and it wasn’t even the real poem – “spider” was substituted for “tiger” every time. Still, it’s a good poem and it is apt.

The Tigers
By Jose Melendez

Tigers, tigers, don’t burn down.
Aged buildings in Motown,
Can’t hit, throw or win a race,
They don’t torch cities for last place.

Tigers, tigers in the field,
Bobby Higginson revealed,
What hand, if it’s made of stone,
Can catch the ball and throw it home?

Tigers, tigers not adroit,
In the forests of Detroit
Ty Cobb’s ghost – always bitter
When D. Young is your best hitter.

Tigers, tigers in the snow,
Playing when it’s ten below,
Although it can seem uncouth,
Your stadium could use a roof.

Tigers, tigers struggling,
Like the cat who plays with string,
John Ha-Lama holds the twine,
Christ. He’s in our starting nine?

Tigers, tigers pale and wan,
Kirk and Sparky both are gone,
Trammel’s back with much to do,
He’s not the same without “Sweet Lou.”

Tigers, Tiger play tonight,
Underneath electric light,
Not the team of ’84,
Tigers please drop three of four.