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Northwest Side Story -- a subsidiary of Mariners! The Musical
Umm, okay, so I wrote two new song parodies, neither of which are the ones I intended to write when I started this, but that's okay. I have a feeling the overlap of people who read my LJ, and people who are familiar with West Side Story, and people who are actually amused by my baseball song parodies, is really a very, very low number of people, but that's okay. I'm mostly just trying to get creative and write lots of songs, and later I'll pare them down.
The first one is about the day that Pedro Martinez actually LOST at Safeco a few weeks ago, except the setting is, of course, beforehand, where everyone is expressing their thoughts on what should happen that evening. The tune is the "Quintet/Rumble", movie version. I put it in [pre] tags because I'm not sure the best way to express the "these voices all overlap at the end, yo" part of it. I'm also not sure what the title of this would be. (Oh, for background, the catcher for the Mets that night was Mike Piazza and the pitcher/catcher for the Mariners was Ryan Franklin and Pat Borders.)
I really did intend to write "When you're a Met / you're a Met all the way / From the first hit you get / To your last time at Shea", but I couldn't really find a groove for the rest of the song, so...
The other song... well, I don't know what posessed me to come up with this one. It doesn't *quite* scan to the movie version, though I think it goes okay to the Broadway version. It's a little sillier. It's basically "Gee, Umpire Buckley" to the tune of "Gee, Officer Krupke". The veteran players are pretending to try to figure out what's wrong with Mike Morse, our rookie shortstop, and the rookies lament that the umpire is unfair to them.
(ROOKIES Jeremy Reed, Mike Morse, Jose Lopez, Chris Snelling, and
Miguel Olivo are standing around bitching about Jim Buckley, a
particularly nasty umpire who keeps giving the rookies a tough time.
Some of the veteran players wander by to make fun of them...)
MORSE
God, I hate that guy. I swear, of all the umpires, he's the most blind.
REED
Seriously. Did you see that ridiculous strike three he called on me the other day?
MORSE
Yeah, and that error on me? Geez.
MOYER
You rookies have no idea how good you have it... why, when I was your age, they didn't
even have this fancy-schmancy equipment to keep those umps in line.
MORSE
Still... It's one thing to strike out, it's another thing to strike out because some
stupid goddamn ump makes a bad call.
(Eddie Guardado picks up a catcher's mask and takes an imposing stance behind home plate. He points at Mike Morse.)
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Hey you!
MORSE
Who me, Umpire Buckley?
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Yeah you, gimme one good reason for not throwin' ya outta the game right here, ya punk!
MORSE (singing):
Deeeeeeeear kind umpire Buckley
Ya gotta understand
It's just the calling upley
That gets all out of hand
Our gear is up at Safeco
Our soul's in Triple A
Golly, Grover, wherefore should I play?
ROOKIES
Gee, Umpire Buckley
We're very confused
We never had the chance
to play on teams that don't lose.
We ain't no star players,
We're just rookie guys
Deep in the outfield we shag flies.
MORSE
We shag flies!
ROOKIES
We shag flies, we shag flies,
Falling from the skies,
'Till our legs collapse we all shag flies!
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY (talking:)
Aw gee, that's a touching good story.
MORSE
Lemme tell it to the world!
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Just tell it to the press.
(He points at Ron Villone, who is holding a clipboard and a pen.)
MORSE (singing:)
Deeeeeeear kindly guy from KOMO,
The system makes me retch.
You see replays in slo-mo,
It's clear I made the catch!
They charged me with an error
I swear I didn't make!
Bleepin' bloopers, can't I get a break?
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS
Right! Umpire Buckley,
You're really a slug!
This boy don't need the press,
He needs a chat and a hug.
Take more drills at fielding,
No need for alarm;
He's got to just work on his arm.
MORSE
On my arm?
ROOKIES
On your arm, on your arm
Not your poise or charm.
Or they'll send us all down to the farm!
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS (talking:)
Attention, members of the press. I do declare that this guy's through on account he ain't got a normal arm.
MORSE
Hey, I'm through on account I can't throw!
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS
So take him to a fielding coach. You!
BORDERS
Who me?
(Pat Borders stands there looking bored with a first-baseman's glove.)
MORSE (singing:)
Sooooo Beltre throws to Sexson
And Sexson throws to me
Sometimes I throw to Lopez
Or to the outfield three
I've got no problem aiming
When practicing with Spiez;
But when it's game time, suddenly I freeze!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH
Yes, umpire Buckley
He shouldn't be here
This boy will pick it up
as he moves through his career.
He's got decent arm strength,
It's just his control
And playing deep back in the hole.
MORSE
In the hole!
ROOKIEs
In the hole, in the hole
Where the grounders roll
Yes, the shortstop has to learn the hole!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH (talking:)
In my opinion, this boy does not need field coaching at all. His mental issues are all
linked to his lack of patience at the plate.
MORSE
Yeah, I can't hit for shit!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH
So take him to a batting coach!
(Raul Ibanez gets out a bunch of bats and hands one to Mike Morse, who leans on it and sings:)
MORSE
Dear kindly Mister Baylor
I've never slumped like this
I'm swearing like a sailor
Each time I swing and miss
I lunge for outside fastballs
And pitches in the dirt
Stupid strikeouts make my av'rage hurt!
IBANEZ, AS HITTING COACH
Eek, umpire Buckley,
Here's one more you've blown.
This boy don't need no coaching,
Just a consistent zone!
It ain't just a question of misjudging balls
Deep down the problem is your calls!
MORSE
It's HIS calls!
ROOKIES
It's your calls, it's your calls
All those strikes are balls!
Yes, the trouble's got to be your calls!
GUARDADO: Oh? The trouble is his swinging
BORDERS: The trouble is his pace
VILLONE: The trouble is his singing
IBANEZ: The trouble's his on-base
VILLONE: The trouble is his throwing
BORDERS: The trouble's what he's thrown
ROOKIES: Buckley, we've got troubles of our own!
Umpire Buckley, we're down on our spikes
MORSE
'Cause no one wants to see a fella called out on strikes
ROOKIES
Well, umpire Buckley,
What are we to do?
Gee umpire Buckley--
Buck you!
Constructive criticism is actually welcomed, although I'm kind of expecting the comments, if any, to be "what kind of crack are you ON?"
The first one is about the day that Pedro Martinez actually LOST at Safeco a few weeks ago, except the setting is, of course, beforehand, where everyone is expressing their thoughts on what should happen that evening. The tune is the "Quintet/Rumble", movie version. I put it in [pre] tags because I'm not sure the best way to express the "these voices all overlap at the end, yo" part of it. I'm also not sure what the title of this would be. (Oh, for background, the catcher for the Mets that night was Mike Piazza and the pitcher/catcher for the Mariners was Ryan Franklin and Pat Borders.)
I really did intend to write "When you're a Met / you're a Met all the way / From the first hit you get / To your last time at Shea", but I couldn't really find a groove for the rest of the song, so...
METS
The Mets are gonna have their day tonight...
The Mets are gonna have their way tonight...
The fans from New York shout out: "PEDRO!"
And since they want a shutout,
We'll put on a show...
MARINERS
We're gonna turn the double play tonight...
We'll make 'em look like triple A tonight...
We said, "Okay, he's Pedro,
No shit."
And though it's Safeco,
We're ready to hit
Tonight.
MARINERS & METS
We're gonna win it tonight,
We're gonna play it up and pound on the ball!
They're gonna lose it tonight,
The more they turn it on the harder they'll fall!
METS
Well, they began it!
MARINERS
Well, they began it!
ALL
And we're the ones to beat 'em once and for all,
Tonight!
PEDRO MARTINEZ
Ol' Pedro's gonna hit his stride
Tonight
I'll get 'em swinging high and wide
Tonight
They'll come up to the plate and
Swing low
And three fast pitches later,
Away they will go,
Tonight!
RYAN FRANKLIN
Tonight, tonight,
Won't be just any night,
Tonight there will be no loss for me.
Tonight, tonight, I'll get a win tonight
And my losing streak will stop at three!
PAT BORDERS
Today
The pitches seem like innings,
The innings go so slowly,
And still the sky is light,
For curves, I'll sign,
And make this endless game end in nine!
METS
The Mets are coming out on top tonight
We're gonna watch Seattle drop tonight
That stupid fuzzy moose'll go down
And like an apple streusel, we'll burn 'em all brown
BORDERS
Tonight, tonight PIAZZA: We'll be backing you boy
PEDRO: Right
Won't be just any night PIAZZA: You're gonna strike 'em out good
PEDRO: Right
Tonight the Mets will get no base hits
MARINERS: And then we'll pound on the ball tonight
Tonight, tonight We're gonna win it tonight
We'll get a win tonight We're gonna slug 'em tonight
And for them We're gonna hit it tonight PEDRO: Tonight, tonight, a no-hitter
balls will fall into mitts I'm gonna pitch it tonight...
FRANKLIN & BORDERS
Today the pitches seem like innings MARINERS/METS: But they began it
The innings go so slowly They began it, They began it
And still the sky is light.
MARINERS/METS: And we're the ones to stop 'em,
we'll stop 'em once and for all. PEDRO: Tonight, Pedro's gonna hit his stride,
Oh ball, please shine, The (Mets are gonna / Mariners'll) make the play...
And make this endless game We'll make 'em look like triple A... We'll throw the runners as they slide...
end in nine! We're gonna rock it tonight... Tonight...
ALL
Tonight!
The other song... well, I don't know what posessed me to come up with this one. It doesn't *quite* scan to the movie version, though I think it goes okay to the Broadway version. It's a little sillier. It's basically "Gee, Umpire Buckley" to the tune of "Gee, Officer Krupke". The veteran players are pretending to try to figure out what's wrong with Mike Morse, our rookie shortstop, and the rookies lament that the umpire is unfair to them.
(ROOKIES Jeremy Reed, Mike Morse, Jose Lopez, Chris Snelling, and
Miguel Olivo are standing around bitching about Jim Buckley, a
particularly nasty umpire who keeps giving the rookies a tough time.
Some of the veteran players wander by to make fun of them...)
MORSE
God, I hate that guy. I swear, of all the umpires, he's the most blind.
REED
Seriously. Did you see that ridiculous strike three he called on me the other day?
MORSE
Yeah, and that error on me? Geez.
MOYER
You rookies have no idea how good you have it... why, when I was your age, they didn't
even have this fancy-schmancy equipment to keep those umps in line.
MORSE
Still... It's one thing to strike out, it's another thing to strike out because some
stupid goddamn ump makes a bad call.
(Eddie Guardado picks up a catcher's mask and takes an imposing stance behind home plate. He points at Mike Morse.)
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Hey you!
MORSE
Who me, Umpire Buckley?
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Yeah you, gimme one good reason for not throwin' ya outta the game right here, ya punk!
MORSE (singing):
Deeeeeeeear kind umpire Buckley
Ya gotta understand
It's just the calling upley
That gets all out of hand
Our gear is up at Safeco
Our soul's in Triple A
Golly, Grover, wherefore should I play?
ROOKIES
Gee, Umpire Buckley
We're very confused
We never had the chance
to play on teams that don't lose.
We ain't no star players,
We're just rookie guys
Deep in the outfield we shag flies.
MORSE
We shag flies!
ROOKIES
We shag flies, we shag flies,
Falling from the skies,
'Till our legs collapse we all shag flies!
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY (talking:)
Aw gee, that's a touching good story.
MORSE
Lemme tell it to the world!
GUARDADO, IMITATING BUCKLEY
Just tell it to the press.
(He points at Ron Villone, who is holding a clipboard and a pen.)
MORSE (singing:)
Deeeeeeear kindly guy from KOMO,
The system makes me retch.
You see replays in slo-mo,
It's clear I made the catch!
They charged me with an error
I swear I didn't make!
Bleepin' bloopers, can't I get a break?
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS
Right! Umpire Buckley,
You're really a slug!
This boy don't need the press,
He needs a chat and a hug.
Take more drills at fielding,
No need for alarm;
He's got to just work on his arm.
MORSE
On my arm?
ROOKIES
On your arm, on your arm
Not your poise or charm.
Or they'll send us all down to the farm!
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS (talking:)
Attention, members of the press. I do declare that this guy's through on account he ain't got a normal arm.
MORSE
Hey, I'm through on account I can't throw!
VILLONE, IMITATING PRESS
So take him to a fielding coach. You!
BORDERS
Who me?
(Pat Borders stands there looking bored with a first-baseman's glove.)
MORSE (singing:)
Sooooo Beltre throws to Sexson
And Sexson throws to me
Sometimes I throw to Lopez
Or to the outfield three
I've got no problem aiming
When practicing with Spiez;
But when it's game time, suddenly I freeze!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH
Yes, umpire Buckley
He shouldn't be here
This boy will pick it up
as he moves through his career.
He's got decent arm strength,
It's just his control
And playing deep back in the hole.
MORSE
In the hole!
ROOKIEs
In the hole, in the hole
Where the grounders roll
Yes, the shortstop has to learn the hole!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH (talking:)
In my opinion, this boy does not need field coaching at all. His mental issues are all
linked to his lack of patience at the plate.
MORSE
Yeah, I can't hit for shit!
BORDERS, IMITATING FIELDING COACH
So take him to a batting coach!
(Raul Ibanez gets out a bunch of bats and hands one to Mike Morse, who leans on it and sings:)
MORSE
Dear kindly Mister Baylor
I've never slumped like this
I'm swearing like a sailor
Each time I swing and miss
I lunge for outside fastballs
And pitches in the dirt
Stupid strikeouts make my av'rage hurt!
IBANEZ, AS HITTING COACH
Eek, umpire Buckley,
Here's one more you've blown.
This boy don't need no coaching,
Just a consistent zone!
It ain't just a question of misjudging balls
Deep down the problem is your calls!
MORSE
It's HIS calls!
ROOKIES
It's your calls, it's your calls
All those strikes are balls!
Yes, the trouble's got to be your calls!
GUARDADO: Oh? The trouble is his swinging
BORDERS: The trouble is his pace
VILLONE: The trouble is his singing
IBANEZ: The trouble's his on-base
VILLONE: The trouble is his throwing
BORDERS: The trouble's what he's thrown
ROOKIES: Buckley, we've got troubles of our own!
Umpire Buckley, we're down on our spikes
MORSE
'Cause no one wants to see a fella called out on strikes
ROOKIES
Well, umpire Buckley,
What are we to do?
Gee umpire Buckley--
Buck you!
Constructive criticism is actually welcomed, although I'm kind of expecting the comments, if any, to be "what kind of crack are you ON?"