The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the ‘lanta nine that day,
The score stood 3-1 with but one inning left to play.
And so when Garcia walked to first and Flowers singled the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of that game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
clung to the hope which springs eternal from the delenda ests.
They thought, “If Jace just won’t load the bases, at that,
we’d put up even money now with no bases-loaded at-bat.”

But Jace coaxed a walk, to the disparagement of all,
And A.J., the much despised, had a chance to smack the ball.
And as he approached the dish, and fans saw what had occurred,
There was Tyler safe at second and Adonis a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a demoralized yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
Over that dreaded, ever dreaded, bases loaded at-bat.

Ten thousand eyes on A.J. as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues bemoaned him as he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the confident pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
The crowd knew the best they could hope for was a measly little foul tip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And A.J. stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the ancient batsman the ball so quickly sped—
“I’ll foul that off,” said A.J. “Strike one!” the umpire said.

From the grandstand, blue with empty seats, there went up a muffled moan,
The fans all knew the future and showed disapproval with a groan;
“Blame them! Blame the Johns!” shouted someone on the stand;
And those all around nodded bleakly at the knowledgable Braves fan.

The swagger is gone from Turner Field, losing is now our fate,
Three Reds scored on Bruce’s hit, while one Brave alone crossed the plate;
And now the bases-loaded K, and now Mallex swings away,
And now the wholly predictable bases-loaded double play.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children grin,
But there is no joy in ‘lanta—the 2016 Braves have lost again.

Aybar delenda est.