Once upon a midnight dreary, while Mozeliak pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a historic and storied volume of Cardinal lore,
While he nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if someone was gently rapping, rapping at his office door.
“Tis some scout”, he muttered, “tapping at my office door, only this, and nothing more.”
Distinctly he remembered, it was a horrible start to the season,
And the previous game’s scorecard was torn to shreds upon the floor.
Eagerly he wished the morrow; a stiff drink from Mike Shannon he had borrowed
He longed to forget his sorrow, sorrow for the lost La Russa
For such a quality manager whom the baseball gods had named La Russa,
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each red curtain,
Thrilled him- filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating,
“Tis some scout entreating entrance at my office door-
Some late night worker entreating entrance at my office door;-
This it is, and nothing more.”
Then his confidence grew stronger, straightened his bowtie and hesitated no longer,
“Sir,” he said, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my office door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”-then he opened wide the door;
The St. Louis night was there, and nothing more.
Back into the office he turned, his blood was boiling.
Soon again he heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” he said, “surely that is something at my office window:
Let me see, then, what it is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”
Then he flung open the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter;
In there stepped a Matheny, seeking his place in Cardinal lore;
He was perched upon a Musial bust
Perched and sat, and nothing more.
“Will you ever learn to double switch?”
Mozeliak heard his words outpour
The Matheny sat there on his perch and uttered,
“I beg of you, please tell me;
Only true outfielders are in store”
Again the Matheny replied,
“Will Peralta ever again, make the ball soar?”
To Mozeliak’s disgust, the Matheny answered,
Angered, Mozeliak said
“Why is your lineup card such a bore?!”
Still the Matheny replied,
“Will you guide us to a championship?”
Mozeliak did implore
Just one word the Matheny did utter
Now filled with despair and discourse
Mozeliak fell to his office floor,
Unaffected by the scene, the Matheny uttered,