The time has come,
for the home team to rise,
to take what is theirs,
and never give it back.
The bottom of the ninth,
the climax of the game,
a season, and a dream
have come down to this.
Eight months of play,
all the sweat spilled
has come down to this.
The home team at bat,
down by a run,
what better time
for a hero to rise?
With Ginsburg on second
and one out so far,
it seemed as though
there was a chance to shine.
Milgrom set up,
stretching his legs,
waiting for the pitcher’s roll,
so that he could break open the game.
The roll came quickly,
and Milgrom charged,
kicking the ball
with all of his might.
The ball sailed deep,
and both runners took off,
only to realize the ball had been caught.
Desperately trying,
Ginsburg turned back,
sprinting to make it,
before he was caught.
It was all to no avail,
as he indeed was caught,
losing the game
that meant it all.
Ginsburg lay there,
inches from second.
Trying to contemplate,
what had just happened.
The season was done,
and so was the dream
that had kept his team up,
through their long and proud run.
While he was overcome by guilt,
Milgrom approached him,
furious with the action
that had just taken place.
His trusty knife with him,
Milgrom drew closer,
waiting for the perfect time,
to strike down Ginsburg.
Milgrom lunged forward,
knife in hand,
eying his target,
who was lost in despair.
The blade struck clean,
right through his heart,
and blood spurted everywhere,
desecrating the field.
The deed was done,
and Milgrom walked away,
wishing his team had won the day.
No more apologies, no more losing.
He wanted it all,
and would stop at nothing to get it.
The time has come,
for the home team to rise,
to take what is theirs,
and never give it back.
The bottom of the ninth,
the climax of the game,
a season, and a dream
have come down to this.
Eight months of play,
all the sweat spilled
has come down to this.
The home team at bat,
down by a run,
what better time
for a hero to rise?
With Ginsburg on second
and one out so far,
it seemed as though
there was a chance to shine.
Milgrom set up,
stretching his legs,
waiting for the pitcher’s roll,
so that he could break open the game.
The roll came quickly,
and Milgrom charged,
kicking the ball
with all of his might.
The ball sailed deep,
and both runners took off,
only to realize the ball had been caught.
Desperately trying,
Ginsburg turned back,
sprinting to make it,
before he was caught.
It was all to no avail,
as he indeed was caught,
losing the game
that meant it all.
Ginsburg lay there,
inches from second.
Trying to contemplate,
what had just happened.
The season was done,
and so was the dream
that had kept his team up,
through their long and proud run.
While he was overcome by guilt,
Milgrom approached him,
furious with the action
that had just taken place.
His trusty knife with him,
Milgrom drew closer,
waiting for the perfect time,
to strike down Ginsburg.
Milgrom lunged forward,
knife in hand,
eying his target,
who was lost in despair.
The blade struck clean,
right through his heart,
and blood spurted everywhere,
desecrating the field.
The deed was done,
and Milgrom walked away,
wishing his team had won the day.
No more apologies, no more losing.
He wanted it all,
and would stop at nothing to get it.