Difference between revisions of "Kennedy Loser/IF-121.90"

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{{Rumor Header}}
 
===In Literature===
 
===In Literature===
Crabs poet Laureate Runolfio Peeper wrote the following poem about Loser's most famous game:
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Crabs poet Laureate [[Runolfio Peeper]] wrote the following poem about Loser's most famous game:
 
+
<blockquote><poem>
 
The score was tied, and the time was dire
 
The score was tied, and the time was dire
 
 
When Kennedy Loser grabbed his bat.
 
When Kennedy Loser grabbed his bat.
 
 
We shouted his name, a chaotic choir,
 
We shouted his name, a chaotic choir,
 
 
As he rose from the dugout and doffed his hat,
 
As he rose from the dugout and doffed his hat,
 
 
He took a step, tripped, and fell down flat.
 
He took a step, tripped, and fell down flat.
 
 
And at this sign, we all sighed and knew
 
And at this sign, we all sighed and knew
 
 
This game might never end, and also that
 
This game might never end, and also that
 
 
This man was a loser, through and through.
 
This man was a loser, through and through.
  
 
The inning was twenty, the hour ticking down,
 
The inning was twenty, the hour ticking down,
 
 
And Kennedy wiped his hands on his pants.
 
And Kennedy wiped his hands on his pants.
 
 
He minced to the plate, his face in a frown,
 
He minced to the plate, his face in a frown,
 
 
He tested his swing and his feet did a dance.
 
He tested his swing and his feet did a dance.
 
 
He stared at the pitcher, awaiting his chance,
 
He stared at the pitcher, awaiting his chance,
 
 
Then, just incredible! He tumbled to!
 
Then, just incredible! He tumbled to!
 
 
He had fallen again, and lay there askance.
 
He had fallen again, and lay there askance.
 
 
This man was a loser, through and through
 
This man was a loser, through and through
  
 
There were two outs, and a man on first base,
 
There were two outs, and a man on first base,
 
 
As Kennedy pushed himself to his feet.
 
As Kennedy pushed himself to his feet.
 
 
Our hopes were dismal as he took his place,
 
Our hopes were dismal as he took his place,
 
 
And everyone said he looked slightly beat.
 
And everyone said he looked slightly beat.
 
 
He stood like a stone; felt the first fastball’s heat,
 
He stood like a stone; felt the first fastball’s heat,
 
 
“Strike one!” We all heard. And then a “Strike two!”
 
“Strike one!” We all heard. And then a “Strike two!”
 
 
He looked gone and lost, like he couldn’t compete;
 
He looked gone and lost, like he couldn’t compete;
 
 
This man was a loser, through and through.
 
This man was a loser, through and through.
  
 
A double spillover? We looked at the clock.
 
A double spillover? We looked at the clock.
 
 
Kennedy readjusted, tense but unbowed,
 
Kennedy readjusted, tense but unbowed,
 
 
And met the next pitch with a titanic knock.
 
And met the next pitch with a titanic knock.
 
 
The ball raced away, disappeared in a cloud,
 
The ball raced away, disappeared in a cloud,
 
 
And Kennedy turned and spoke to the crowd
 
And Kennedy turned and spoke to the crowd
 
 
“Ask not what Mother Crab can do for you!”
 
“Ask not what Mother Crab can do for you!”
 
 
Then he rounded the bases, beaming and proud.
 
Then he rounded the bases, beaming and proud.
 
 
This Loser a winner, through and through.
 
This Loser a winner, through and through.
 +
</poem></blockquote>

Latest revision as of 04:24, 17 September 2020

Rumor / Community Lore
This article contains lore created collaboratively by the Blaseball community. It is just one of many Rumors that we've found in the Interdimensional Rumor Mill. You can find more Rumors about Kennedy Loser at their Rumor Registry.

In Literature

Crabs poet Laureate Runolfio Peeper wrote the following poem about Loser's most famous game:

The score was tied, and the time was dire
When Kennedy Loser grabbed his bat.
We shouted his name, a chaotic choir,
As he rose from the dugout and doffed his hat,
He took a step, tripped, and fell down flat.
And at this sign, we all sighed and knew
This game might never end, and also that
This man was a loser, through and through.

The inning was twenty, the hour ticking down,
And Kennedy wiped his hands on his pants.
He minced to the plate, his face in a frown,
He tested his swing and his feet did a dance.
He stared at the pitcher, awaiting his chance,
Then, just incredible! He tumbled to!
He had fallen again, and lay there askance.
This man was a loser, through and through

There were two outs, and a man on first base,
As Kennedy pushed himself to his feet.
Our hopes were dismal as he took his place,
And everyone said he looked slightly beat.
He stood like a stone; felt the first fastball’s heat,
“Strike one!” We all heard. And then a “Strike two!”
He looked gone and lost, like he couldn’t compete;
This man was a loser, through and through.

A double spillover? We looked at the clock.
Kennedy readjusted, tense but unbowed,
And met the next pitch with a titanic knock.
The ball raced away, disappeared in a cloud,
And Kennedy turned and spoke to the crowd
“Ask not what Mother Crab can do for you!”
Then he rounded the bases, beaming and proud.
This Loser a winner, through and through.