One-sixty-two games. What fool could condense
Them into only one? Each half-inning
Would be nine games, if ratios make sense
In strict proportion. So fluid a thing

Such as this undulating game, though bound
By rigid numbers, nine and three like squares
Is named after a ball that's mostly round.
No one diminishing value compares

One game to many. When we tried, the game
Defied us, stretching onward to include
The post-"season". Extra innings name
The playoffs in this code simple and rude

And broken. But it is enough to pick
A winner, and so the format will stick.

You may remember my post a few weeks ago detailing the Orioles 16-game death march of pitching.

Well, they decided that 16 games of self-flagellation wasn't enough, and continued the downward spiral through season's end, to the tune of 308 runs surrendered over their last 39 games:

You have to go back to the 1996 Detroit Tigers (the 53-109, 6.38 season ERA guys) to find the last time a team relinquished that many runs in a 39-game span.

In their last 39 games. the O's surrendered ten or more runs 11 times. (There were 8 teams that had fewer than 11 such games all season.)

The 11-28 finish has become commonplace for the Orioles, as they've managed to hang around the vicinity of .500 for anywhere from two to four months before crashing and burning in the past few years:

Your week has been rough, Mr. Met,
And I see that you're very upset.
But nobody blames you
For losing those games, you
Are still our dear round-headed pet.

I know you envision the threat
That a tabloid or local gazette
Will find you at fault
And launch an assault
On your wonderful spherical tête.

That will not happen, I'll bet.
They're looking for someone to get,
But try to imagine
If you were Tom Glavine--
Now there is a guy who should sweat.

The Peterson/Randolph duet;
Minaya--plus Phillips, Duquette--
It's always the leaders
That newspaper readers
Catch in their scapegoating net.

Don't do a thing you'll regret.
A mascot has no need to fret.
You're not the guy
They're trying to fry,
So please do not fall.
Just back off that wall,
Let Mets fans instead
Use your ball-as-a-head
To cheer for tomorrow
To move past the sorrow
Of this awful collapse
And one day perhaps
The fans will forgive, or forget.