/cdn.vox-cdn.com/photo_images/8927238/20120910_ajl_ar5_246.jpg)
ACT I
SCENE I. An Oklahoma cave.
Thunder. KOZMA stirs a cauldron.
KOZMA: Owasso High hath a shortstop as my brew hath bubbles.
Which hath the short-stop gone?
Graduated.
Whither have the bubbles vanished?
Pop! Pop!
I shall be the new Owasso High short-stop!
Lightning. Enter SPILLY, bearing a torch and backpack.
SPILLY: So foul a day I have not seen, my most athletic bro.
KOZMA: How did thee fare, dude?
SPILLY: I have the ingredients for your brew, bro.
This wizardry doth worry me, though.
KOZMA: Spilly, don't be such a prude.
I am NOT a wizard, dude!
SPILLY: So, dude, what is your magikal aptitude?
Witchcraft? Are we witches?
KOZMA: Chicks are witches, not dudes.
We are warlocks, bros that practice magik!
[Thunder and lightning.
SPILLY: Um, okay. I got the stuff.
KOZMA: Claw of bear? Hide o' heifer? Splinter o' ash? Strand o' wool?
SPILLY: Um, yeah. Here. Truly thinketh dost thou
that this warlocking spell will maketh thou starting short-stop for Owasso High?
KOZMA: Is a hoot the call of the owl!?
Doth the jackal howl!?
Is baseball's best team named for a fowl?
Now back, dear Spilly, so not to foul
up this spell. Silence as I incantate!
[Thunder and lightning.
Ball-Lords, deities of the diamond, thou ways most confounding, I offer my body as a vessel to thee;
That I may range, glove, throw like Ozzie;
Hit, run, slide like Barry;
Hide o' heifer, splinter o' ash, strand o' wool, Claw of bear;
That I may be the Owasso High Nomar Garcia-pear-ah!
[Thunder and lightning.
SCENE II. Busch Stadium.
Enter GOOLD.
LUHNOW: So fair a day I have not seen!
GOOLD: Dost this meaneth your draft class has a pretty sheen?
LUHNOW: Doth provel ooze?
GOOLD: Willst thou go on th' record?
LUHNOW: But of course, good scribe. That Owasso High short-stop,
'our scouts compare him to Nomar Garciaparra, a guy who developed power a little bit later.'
Thou canst print that in thy news-bill!
SCENE III. Kozma's Oklahoma Lair.
Enter SPILLY.
KOZMA: Great happiness!
SPILLY: Thou art a million-aire!
KOZMA: A one-point-six-million-aire!
SPILLY: Thanks be to the deities of the diamond! Our magik is wicked awesome!
KOZMA: But 'tis an event most bitter-sweet.
I must taketh my leave you, dearest Spilly,
and with my new teammates meet.
I am off to Jupiter!
SPILLY: To the heavens!?
KOZMA. No, dude. Florida.
[Exit KOZMA.
ACT II
SCENE I. Kozma's Oklahoma Lair, Autumn 2010.
Harvest moon. Enter KOZMA, bearing a torch before him.
KOZMA: Am I Garcia-pear-ah? No, I am not.
My magik hath doth been exposed as hi-school hi-jinx.
Oh how the geeks hyperventilate;
The non-Porcello they call me with hate.
They pine for Major contract and hundreds of innings.
Some stellar, but lately not so grand.
And me, I'm but a fading farmhand.
A . 746 OPS in the metropolis of Johnson;
Then just .401 in Batavia! Four. Oh. One!
To Davenport, my finest stop, with a .284/.363/.398 slashing;
but without the promised Garcia-pear-ah bashing!
The stretch in Palm Beach was grim, but much better the next year;
So it was to Double-A, the Texas League, with worse hitting than feared.
Twenty-one and allowed to booze, but a .600 OPS to grumbles and boos!
Back at twenty-two for my second tour, and nothing to show
But a .701 OPS! Lo, what a development slow!
Still I charge, the organizational soldier, once celebrated, now scorned!
I must show LARUSSA, MOZELIAK, AND LUHNOW...but how?
Here in this ol' tome, this ancient book of magik, there lies a spell!
It will help this high school Garcia-pear-ah to play short well!
The ingredients collected, now I can tell
that I'll incantate this old-timey spell.
Leather o' Boog, from his spring-training locker;
Sicilian patience can stand him no longer;
Cast out, Ryan will be;
Card-inals short-stop, it will be me!
[Thunder and lightning.
SCENE II. Busch Stadium, MOZELIAK's office.
Enter LA RUSSA, bearing a fungo.
MOZELIAK: A season more fair and foul, I cannot remember.
LA RUSSA: For truth! Pujols and Holliday slugged most swell!
Carpenter, Wainwright, and Garcia hurled quite well!
Yet our Pythag record is five games better than our record!
MOZELIAK: We could probably keep this roster together
And in the 2011 season do better.
LA RUSSA: Probably, but there is a bur in my shoe
That I want gotten rid of by you.
MOZELIAK: Is this bur known as 'Boog'?
If so, he has bothered me, too.
LA RUSSA: Brain twins art thou and I.
Ryan to me is like a thumb in the eye!
MOZELIAK: Banished to Seattle he shall be.
But who will play short-stop here in St. Louie?
LA RUSSA: There is a man full of grit;
He can't field or throw but used to hit
For Chicago. I want him over Ryan the twit!
MOZELIAK: Theriot it is (what it is).
[Exit LA RUSSA.
SCENE III. The Bowels of Busch Stadium.
Enter SPILLY, bearing a flashlight.
KOZMA: Dearest Spilly, so good to see you.
SPILLY: Thou art in quite a pickle, it's true.
In a fateful twist, your errant throw broke Pujols' wrist!
KOZMA: I fret for my career as Tony is pissed;
'You'll never play in this town again," he hissed!
SPILLY: I have the magik ingredients thou requested.
Dost thou truly think this spell will heal?
Broken wrists for ballplayers can be most tuffy!
KOZMA: Dude, it totally worked on 'Buffy.'
SPILLY: Why are we rhyming?
KOZMA: I couldn't tell...To the spell!
I did that on purpose; hee, hee, hee.
But in all seriousity, to the incantating, Spillee!
ACT III
SCENE I. KOZMA's Memphis Lair.
Thunder and Lightning.
KOZMA: Five years a farmhand and rarely a Cardinal.
My age, it doth go up; my stock, it doth go down.
I am on the 40-man, but being in Memphis makes me frown.
The time is now; short-stop is ripe for the picking.
From the Owasso JV to Autozone I've gotten by tricking.
Magik hath this warlock on the big-league track.
This new spell is dark and black; requiring that I kill my hack.
Not the vile Strauss, master of the dark arts,
But my dear friend Spilly, long a friend in my heart.
Eye o' newt, claw o' bear, toad's flipper-- all are got;
But there is one more thing; find it I cannot.
The blood of virgin will complete my spell.
Spilly is one; I swore I'd never tell.
This dagger before me, the handle toward my hand,
Will help me land, in St. Louis as a short-stop.
Sadly, Spilly's blood must be spilt,
For me to reach my Garcia-pear-ah potential as bilt.
[Enter SPILLY. Thunder.
SPILLY: Hello, dearest friend! I rushed over just as soon as I finished
Putting together a corporate identity kit for Picaza Advertising.
What is it, Pete? Why art thou perspiring?
[Thunder and lightning.
SCENE II. Busch Stadium, Cardinals clubhouse.
Enter KOZMA, CHAMBERS, JACKSON, MARTE, and MILLER.
MILLER: To be in Saint Louis and the bigs is most glorious!
I hear the Cards' buffet spread is enormous!
MARTE: It's as big as any I've seen!
You can go back for seconds and thirds.
No wonder you're keen!
[Exit MILLER and MARTE.
JACKSON: It's good to be back in the Gateway to the West.
At short-stop, I'll try my level best!
I'm off to take some batting practice, care to join me?
KOZMA: No thank you, sir. I'll leave you be.
I've got some unpacking yet to do.
Hold you up, I don't want to.
JACKSON: Hey, Chambers, what about you?
CHAMBERS: If you'll give me a piggyback to the cage,
I'll take some batting practice, too.
[Exit JACKSON and CHAMBERS, with JACKSON bearing CHAMBERS on his back.
KOZMA: Oh, that Jackson, his fielding is slick.
So good is his glove that it makes me sick.
Good thing I have a spell in mind
That will make Matheny blind
to the University of Miami find.
Matheny will have Jackson ride the pine.
All the short-stop innings will be mine!
[Exit KOZMA.
Enter KOZMA and JACKSON.
JACKSON: Oh man, what blop!
Why am am I not playing short-stop!?
All season long, for the Red Birds, I've played over Koz-mah!
Now, in St. Louis, the manager chooses him o'er me! Wah!
Wah! Wah! Wah! Wah!
KOZMA: Silence, you whiny ass titty baby!
Your wah-ing hurts many an ear.
Magik Mike sees things quite clear.
I'll be playing short over you for the rest o the year!
SCENE III. KOZMA's St. Louis Lair.
Enter KOZMA, bearing Shlafly Pumpkin Ale.
KOZMA: In St. Louis filling my desitny
As the best Cardinals short-stop since Ozzie!
All it took was a snap of Fookie's sinew
and Magik Mike would call on me, I knew;
But I cannot forget to toast my seasonal brew.
My warlock magik has brought me here,
but the man to whom I toast this beer
was a friend and righthand man most dear.
My eyes, they swell with many a tear
as I remember Spilly and our years
of friendship. This warlock short-stop
simpy says: Spilly, R...I...P.
Fin.