A Short Lil Ode To Alyson
When I was a boy, my pappy told me that he never cried,
Not when our Astros lost in ‘86, not when his hunting dog died.
So, I called him and told him about our girl Footer leaving town,
He said, “Son, thats a good reason to cry, I understand why this crap’s got you down.”
He said, “She’s always quick with a comeback, even quicker with a funny retweet.”
“I know on Social Media Night, she gave vegetarian Buca a plate without the meat.”
I said, “Dad, she is more than just a blogger, she’s an awesome baseball cat!”
My dad patted me on the shoulder, laughed and said, “Andy, true dat!”
I said “A player to be named later? Footer has got those bloggers full of intrigue,
She kept us all jumping off bridges, when the Astros changed to the ‘merican league!
She’s a friend to Luhnow, Bourn, Studly Budly, Scrap Iron and me.
She told Jim Deshaies about my awesome freaking jersey and got me starring on TV.
She’s a writer, she’s a blogger, an old-school Cincinnaiti queen
I’ll beat someone up, GOD, I SWEAR IT! if they ever treat her mean.”
“So, son, pour out some of your dank ol’ forty, and bid that gal adieu.”
“And quit send her emails three times a day or she’ll put a restraining order on you.”
“If you love something let it go, if it comes back it was meant to be,
I keep saying the same thing about Oswalt, Berkman, Bourn and Hunter P.”
I said, “Thanks, dad, all these years, your advice is still the bomb,
but losing Footer is tougher than the time you got kicked out on your butt by Mom.”
I said, “I hope Footer is happy now, maybe New York City is going to be her spot,
But, if it doesn’t work out, she’ll always have a job at the Houston Sports Counterplot.”