A year ago the Pats were winners,
Deflating the charge they were pigskin sinners;
The best comeback ever, a gleeful fourth quarter,
Edelman the brick, and Brady the mortar.

Not so good this year, gone are the thrills,
Three Patriots players have gone to the hills;
Amendola departed, and so did Lewis,
Butler somehow became superfluous.

It’s time once again to announce the new season,
I’m talkin’ baseball, and there is good reason
For hope once again, though we’re still Papi-less,
It’s time to dispel our un-happiness,

There’s a new DH, he goes by J.D.,
The name’s Martinez, and they’ve said that he
Will help us forget last season’s distress,
And make the new skipper a great success.

Now calling the shots is Alex Cora,
My grandmother would have said “kinehora.”
That the Yiddish version of knocking on wood,
To wish him luck, “he should only make good.”

The infield looks sound, though Pedroia won’t start,
He’s still in rehab, his knee fell apart;
Ramirez at first, that’s where he will stand;
(In the wings we’ll still have Mitch Moreland).

Nunez at second, filling in for a while,
Shortstop Bogaerts, from the Aruban isle;
The Panda is gone, no longer at third,
Rafael Devers, the last thing I heard.

The outfield is set, the same as last year
Benintendi in left, it’s his hemisphere;
The other two-thirds look pretty airtight,
Jackie Bradley in center, Mookie Betts in right,

One spot remains, it’s behind the plate,
On Opening Day, Vazquez will await
The cry to “Play Ball,” amid roaring applause,
As arm-wavers remain true to their cause.

Starting pitcher Chris Sale the ball will propel,
Lydia’s dad in the bullpen, the closer Kimbrel;
After that come Porcello, Velazquez, and Price,
We need a fifth starter, someone who’ll suffice.

Was there ever a sport that gave more pleasure?
If there is, I’d like to take its measure;
But for now, once again, my spring song I have sung,
Here’s to the game that helps keep us young.