Twas the night before the home opener, when all around the Cubs
There seemed to be a stench; hovering over it were bugs
The ‘W’ flags were hung by the flagpoles with care,
In hopes they’d be used before Ernie Banks gets back hair
The children were nestled in bed; feeling quite rich,
But were scarred with nightmarish visions of having to see Marmol pitch
Most of us fans just awoke from a long winter’s slumber
To find out we’re stuck watching Dave Sappelt all summer
In the night, I dreamed of the game going on the next days
And how it would destroy me in all the different ways
I woke up with a vision, and screamed, ‘Nobody knows where the ball is!’
When a voice boomed down, ‘Sorry. It’s with Alberto Gonzalez.’
The depression of these new players hit me with a force
Rondon?! Gonzalez?! Run me over with a horse!
Takahashi? Fujikawa? New Japanese pitchers excite…
Until I realize we actually need a lead to use them. Great. All right!
As we sleep, I see a team with poor closing, and bad middle relief
I see a lack of power and no speed; good grief!
I see a lot of fifth infielders and fourth outfielders getting starts
While most of us wanna rip ourselves into tiny little parts
Still, as my dream continues, I get this odd feeling
Castillo and Valbuena both hit .280 and Fujikawa has no ceiling!
Samardzija is an all-star, and there’s nothing Schierholtz can’t catch,
People trying to steal on Castillo is becoming a stretch!
Rizzo is putting up numbers like power first basemen do,
And Castro is just about to hit his groove!
Lillibridge is traded for a lifetime supply of Mr. Pibbs
And Soriano hits .300 with 30 homers and 110 Ribbs.
In my dream, the wins are beginning to mount, and we’re all so stunned,
To the point that we might actually like Tom Tunney; that irrational bum.
The team is in first, to everybody’s surprise
The critics are silenced, and unable to analyze!
As the excitement grows, and the clinching day is near,
I get this odd, perplexing fear.
My eyes open up and I’m hit with a thought,
That all of my dreams were all for naught.
With the happiness that came at the start of the dream
It hits me that the Cubs have Brent Lillibridge on their team
We’re stuck with him, Sappelt, and Marmol, too
We’re stuck with 100 losses, but that you already knew
There’s no wish list, no Sveum with a magic wand
The Cubs are bad in Chicago, Atlanta, Pittsburgh, or Milan
So let’s stop pretending that something might change with some luck
It’s the night before Cubbie Christmas…And the Cubbies still suck.