Marty At The Bat

From 20,000 throats and more there rose a lusty cheer;
It rumbled through the Rockies and made us drop our beer;
It knocked upon the skybox and upon the ice so flat,
For Marty, mighty Marty, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Marty’s manner as he skated to his crease;
There was pride in Marty’s bearing and a smile that wouldn’t cease.
And when, responding to the cheers, ignoring jeers of ‘FAT!!’
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Marty at the bat.

And now the frozen rubber puck came hurtling through the air,
And Marty stood a-watching it and gripped his stick with care.
Though nowhere near the goalmouth the puck appeared to head-
“I think I got this,” said Marty. “Oh Christ??!,” the fanbase said.

His stick is lifted from the ice, on puck his eyes are set;
He pounds with cruel violence the disc from front his net.
But now Rafalski holds the puck, and has no need for tricks,
For standing right in front of him; an open four-by-six.

Oh, somewhere in this frozen land the competition’s light;
A bye into the semis and one less team to fight,
And somewhere lines are clicking, and powerplays have clout;
But there is no joy in Canada, mighty Marty has struck out.