The Mariners’ Revenge Song
There are two tragedies to which I would like to alert you. First, as you’ve no doubt noticed, our compadre Peter has been forced by circumstance to adopt a posting schedule best described as “occasional.”
This is a loss for us all, since Peter’s got a terrific analytic mind and an artistic bent. I’d say that even if he didn’t owe me money.*
The second tragedy: To date, the Mariners have not developed a fight song. College football teams are inspired by them, and I can’t help but think the hometown nine would be as well. Put your hand down, Zumsteg, “Who Let The Dogs Out?” does not count.
Drawing on our mutual affection for music, Peter and I have rectified both tragedies. And by “Peter and I,” I mean, “Peter had an idea, and I waited until he stopped posting before stealing it.”
One of us pointed out that an excellent band, The Decemberists, has a song entitled “The Mariner’s Revenge Song.” Given how the M’s have been kicked around over the course of their history — and in the past few years — the other of us reasoned that the tune would lend itself well to parody.
Let me strongly recommend checking out the song if you have yet to do so. This will enhance the experience considerably. If you enjoy the new lyrics, please remember: timely theft means that I deserve all the credit. Should you dislike it, please: convey all blame to Peter, who has a thicker skin than this shrinking violet. If you really hate it, Jeff Sullivan wrote it. Or Devin. Yeah, Devin.
What follows will be the best baseball fight song ever to involve mandolin, accordion and tuba. May it strike fear in the hearts of our enemies. I hope, in the words of Tom Lehrer, they are half as scared as I.
But then, I’m an emo kid with too many feelings. So it is with a single tear dripping from my left eye that I present to you:
They are the Mariners
There have been few teams worse
Over the last few seasons, true …
But we the faithful sing
of that World Series ring
that inspires fans like me and you.
They remember us as once best
In the lonely AL West
But those days are faded and burned
Our rivals emboldened
This status quo must end
And so the tide it will be turned.
We will not take
That cramped back seat again
To Beane and Hicks, Moreno
And their friends
Those Texas Rangers lads
All cheap and talented
They think Teixeira is all that
And how they took Millwood
When Washburn’s just as good***
Unless Will Bloomquist is at bat
We’ll show our southern foes’ weak pitching staff
If Carl Everett can hit you, it is to laugh …
That fair day
We’ll gather in the spring,
lift our voices and then start to sing:
“Find them, find them
Lock them in the restroom with Jeff Liefer
Fearing Ichiro until they wake up, screaming, from
dreams of being gunned down at third.”
Then there is Anaheim
We’ll taunt them with this rhyme
Say “you’re not really from L.A.”
But those aren’t all our tricks
We’ll claim we’ve cloned Felix
The King is pitching every day!
They may question our wits
or whether we’re sober
But we will never once turn our minds
From the thought of October
And then, that fateful night
When victory’s in sight
After two lifetimes, it seems
It’ll be the seventh game
Hernandez throwing flame
To make come true the lifelong dream.
It may be a sign
Of the end times
But we’ve kept faith
As long as Bonds’
Don’t know how we survived
Those years since ’95
Only 2001 sustained
But, oh, what providence
That gave us sustenance
The wins numbered
* Peter doesn’t actually owe me money as far as I know.
** Note how apostrophe placement changes meaning. It’s the little things like that you get with USSM.
*** No, I don’t actually believe this. Shh. They’ll hear you.