We can’t yet know how much we’ll miss
The dives, the leaps, the wizardry
For he who mans the third base bag
Shall not surpass ye olde Beltre
We thought those plays could not be made
But He disproves us time again
A god atop His canvas throne
Big Jack sat back and wept for hours
And stared at charts of UZR
The King not long for Safeco Field
[This post is brought to you in part by Iambic Pentameter Inc.]

