The Last Charge of the Orange Brigade

A week ago, coming off a series victory in Boston, the Orioles opened an eleven game homestand only one game behind the Sox in the race for the American League East.  After a 2-5 start to the homestand, the Orioles have ceded any hope of winning the division, clinging to a perilous lead for the final Wild Card spot.  With ten games remaining in  their season, including three each with the Jays and the Damn Yankees, the Birds must begin their last stand tonight in their final game with Boston.  So as a fun summer slips into a desperate autumn, I apologize to Tennyson for butchering his beautiful war poem which served as my inspiration for:

                                       The Last Charge of the Orange Brigade

Half a league, half a league,

With half a league closing behind,

All into the Yard,

Strode the Baltimore Nine.

"Forward the Orange Brigade!"

"Charge for the fences!" cried Buck.

Into the Yard,

Strode the Baltimore Nine.

Homers to the right of them,

Homers to the left of them,

Homers in front of them,

The Red Stockings have been unkind;

Struck down by Porcello with ease,

Swarmed under by the young Killer B's.

For one more chance, against the lefty Price,

Into the hearty laugh of Ortiz,

Strode the Baltimore Nine.

Valiantly staying in the pennant chase,

Desperately trying to keep pace,

Pinning all hopes on the arm of their Ace. 

Charging the field,

Holding the line.

Swinging for the wall,

Tracking each high fly ball,

Jonesy, Manny, and Trumbo

Enduring every strike call.

Just what is left,

Of the Baltimore Nine?

What shot at glory can they take?

O the Wild Card can the make?

A fan base looks for a sign.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Orange Brigade,

Tonight, cheer the Baltimore Nine.

And, when you're done cheering the Baltimore Nine, read Tennyson's haunting tribute to six hundred men of the Light Brigade.