You knew me as Peter if you knew me at all
I tower several inches above six feet tall
I’d prefer if rather than Peter you please call me Pete
Get me onto the roster, I’ll get you out of your seat
You’ve known me as Dominic or interchangeably Dom
I used to be a prospect you’d ache to take to the prom
That was before you saw me play yet rarely succeed
From my ranks of supporters you were swift to secede
Pete here — you should now know me as that
I trust you’re growing familiar with my big booming bat
Have you caught my power-laden act thus far this spring?
Have your eyes lit up once they’re filled with my swing?
I’m still Dominic or interchangeably Dom
I, too, am capable of launching the occasional bomb
My entire game has improved, just like my demeanor
I can hit balls past fences, I can smother a ’tweener
Don’t ya wanna see Pete, your potential new idol?
Wouldn’t ignoring my talent make ya just wanna bridle?
I’m hearing crazy things about years of control
Hey, focus on offense — mine’s on a roll!
As a former hyped rookie I’m wishing Pete well
But having been Dominic has been kinda hell
All that went wrong for me has gone in for repair
You can’t ignore two kid first basemen amid a March tear
Listen Dom, I rake righty, I see you lash left
If we’re both in New York, our platoon could be deft
I’m up for a timeshare that looms as productive
The sum of our lumber is surely seductive
Pete, my amigo, I’m in no spot to complain
Discounting our hot streaks would be simply insane
We’ll share the position till one of us slumps
I know from hard knocks we’ll encounter speed bumps
You got a deal, Dom; now someone inform Brodie
Omitting our wood will make fans ornery as Grote
As you can infer, I’ve studied Met lore
I plan to add my name to it when I go four-for-four
They can spell yours just “Pete,” me I’m chill on the choice
Having sputtered for two years will soften one’s voice
Call me Dominic, Dom, Mister Smith or Ol’ Smitty
A team without each of us would be a real pity
I was waiting to see what you’d rhyme with “apnea,” but even without venturing there, great stuff, Greg. A platoon would work…I guess until it wouldn’t. At least it’s not a platoon like we could have in CF where both guys hit from the same side.
I don’t think the Mets are gonna go anywhere near the logical solution. They would rather carry three right-handed centerfielders…. and then play Conforto in center. I think Pete (and I am on Team Pete) will get moved to AAA in deference to Smith’s hot spring, which will allow them to circumvent the whole service clock abyss with Pete. Then once Smith inevitably hits .158 through 12 games, a switch can easily be arranged.
He is awfully exciting and he sure looks confident at the plate.
The incident with Reddick was pretty awesome too. Pete’s a big dude.
Hey Greg I was shocked to read you were rhymin’
Your skills prove to me that you’re no simple Simon
The idea of platooning don’t strike me as great
Though their performances warrant an opening day slate
Sadly the Wilpons will have the last say
Pete goes to ‘Cuse Dom plays opening day
I hope I’m wrong, but the tight-fisted, game playing “organization” (built in oxymoron!) has broken my heart too often in the past.
Sheer artistry, Greg! I had to chuckle at several of your surprising rhymes, especially demeanor/’tweener and productive/seductive. Rymer Liriano could never dream of doing so well.
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