As we did over at ye other locale, we are here to bury those whose hopes and aspirations have left us. Those who find themselves riding out the end their journey with little but the accomplishments of their parts to show for it. Yet it is in those parts, when taken as a whole, where their failure and the cause of their demise resides.
We are those who hope, love, and feel for the departed. We throw all of our being into their existence. And now, when even the greatest prayer goes unanswered, we are left alone. Cold and shivering as if it is we who are aside Lucifer in Dante's 8th circle. Yet all we have done is care.
So now, once again we pray to the Great Creator Doubleday. May he take the souls of the departed, and leave us with the memory of better days. When hope sprang eternal and the spark of optimism burned like wildfire.
We begin by burying the most meek of them all, for they will inherit nothing. They have lived a pathetic, meager existence, although if tradition bears true, there is hope that their legacy will plant the seeds of the fruits of success. But even that far off dream provides little shelter from the cold chill and putrid odor of their present failures.
To the 2009 Washington Nationals: Although hope and change rode in to town months earlier, few would waste time believing in you. Despite rumors of immortal wretchedness, you persisted in a dismal, yet comfortable, existence. You were even so bold as to acquire a donkey to help carry you. As if he had shoulders broader than Atlas. Now, of course, we know he was a solitary stopgap. Through your death however will arrive two prophets; the first of whom, the golden arm child, has already been seen. He, along with one who will arrive in the coming summer months, are your future. But for now, may you rest in peace.
To the 2009 Pittsburgh Pirates: Whereas others may have had hope, or even the slightest reason to be excited, your life was doomed from inception. Although you claimed to have a "plan", you lived a meaningless life, with the only significance being your beautiful, yet underappreciated home. May you rest in peace.
To the 2009 Kansas City Royals: For one who accomplished so little, you were the recipient of the words of many great men. Men with wisdom, men with sage, and men whose advice you blatantly ignored. Although you claimed to want to change, you began your life with an ill-fated philosophy and held steady, like a drunken sailor drifting against a storm. And when the world proved you wrong, and your boat sank with the ease of a lead brick, you laughed with denial. You may even deny your death, but it is true. May you rest in peace.
To the 2009 Baltimore Orioles: Another poor life in a palace home. It is difficult to have pity on you. You have blatantly blasphemed by being below buoyancy and bearing the burden of the bottom. You had history and grace on your side, a heritage of pride and success. Until you and your current generation. I will however say that you have glanced to the future, sacrificing yourself for the greater emergence. But that may be a pipedream, a sham, and a fraud on the way to continuing your new unfortunate tradition of early burial. We shall see. But for now, may you rest in peace.
To the 2009 Arizona Diamondbacks: You hinged your success on the fragile thread of a web. When that snapped, you fell down to the mortal coil. Then you became an enigmatic freakshow of talented youth and inconsistent journeymen. You had the king of misses, the brother of a puzzle, and the son of a gridiron great. Perhaps one day these pieces will be greater than their current places in history. But that day is not today. May you rest in peace.