1.1976
Lyricist：Peter Buck, Steven Lawrence Wynn
Saw your picture in the paper today
And I couldn't believe my eyes
Dead before your time
But so long beyond your prime
Looking nothing like the memory
From when I was a kid
Golden hair flowing down
On your knees, grooming the pitcher's mound
And it's always 1976
The camera lies and the mirror plays tricks
So many things that the years won't fix
Always 1976, always 1976
Set against a fading motor city
And Richard Nixon's shame
A rock star had arrived
Fidrych comes alive
And I know that it's hardly fair
To say you won't grow old
But forgive me if I try
To keep that faded image in my eyes
And it's always 1976
The camera lies and the mirror plays tricks
So many things that the years won't fix
Always 1976, always 1976
What does it say for the rest of us
When our heroes die and leave us alone？
What does it say for the rest of us
When we wake up and find this bird has flown？
And it's always 1976
The camera lies and the mirror plays tricks
So many things that the years won't fix
It's always 1976, always 1976
Always 1976
Always 1976
Always 1976
Always 1976
2.Panda And The Freak
In the old days, any player worth talking about had a nickname.
It's a bit of a lost art now (add y to name, that will
suffice), but an oh-so-charismatic San Francisco team has proven
worthy of conjuring the game's colorful past. Yes, the Kung Fu
Panda hit a sophomore slump, but that ultra-clutch two-run
double in the NLCS is what I'll remember. Lincecum has defied
the odds his whole career, and the Giants defied all odds in
2010. What a year! And those panda hats are still the very best
in ballpark wear. Heck, I wore mine to a Billy Bragg／Mavis
Staples show
You heard about the Mudcat, Catfish and the Georgia Peach. The
Kitten and the Cobra, the Spaceman and the Beast. Goose, Bird,
Rooster, Penguin, Vulture -- and your bird can sing. And the
greatest nickname of all time：Death To Flying Things. In old New
York it was Turkey Mike, Muggsy and the Big Six. In San
Francisco, Baby Bull, Stretch, and the Say Hey Kid. Then came
the Count, the Hackman, Jack the Ripper and Will the Thrill.
Barry and Jeff Kent, but a dearth of nicknames, that is,
untilThe Giants got the Panda. The Giants got the Freak. The
Panda's smoking line drives; the Freak is throwing heat. Panda
and the Freak!
When it comes to kung fu fighting, he's no better than Hong Chi
Quo. He's kind of like Bruce Lee if you cross Bruce Lee with a
buffalo. He barrels round the bases; he scrambles for ground
balls. Zito named him Kung Fu Panda -- that's our Pablo
Sandoval.
They said he wasn't built to last; they said he was too small.
The Mariners passed him right by -- now that was a bad call. Two
Cy Youngs, two strike-out crowns, in his first full two years.
And if Timmy takes a puff or two, let's raise a toast, Three
cheers! The Giants got the Panda. The Giants got the Freak. The
Panda's smoking line drives; the Freak is smoking weed. Panda
and the Freak!
3.Fair Weather Fans
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey, Linda Pitmon, Steven Lawrence Wynn
As a kid in Arizona, we didn't have our own team
But I was drawn to the Braves of Aaron, Mathews and Spahn
When we moved to The Bay, I got McCovey, Marichal and Mays
It was heaven and then in '68, the A's came along
With Captain Sal, Reggie, Joe Rudi, and Rollie
Having two teams to love was out of sight
When Seattle became home, spent my nights in the Dome
I still think the Mariners, Giants and A's are all right
A fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
It's so hard to understand
It's so hard to understand a fair weather fan
I grew up outside of Minneapolis
Glued to the radio and the '70's Twins
And the sad sound of crying when they didn't
Score enough runs for a Blyleven win
Now I reside in New York City
So I got a little thing for the pinstripes
But when the Twins face the Yanks in the ALDS
You know who this small town girl likes
A fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
It's hard to understand
It's so hard to understand a fair weather fan
And there's bass player Pete, always fast on his feet
No home team, then for sure
He stays fast and loose but if he had to choose
It'd be the Washington Senators
I grew up in LA to the sweet sounds of Vin Scully
That's how I went to bed most every night
There ain't a prettier park than the one in Chavez Ravine
I've seen many games by the palm trees and the lights
But I sure do love Manhattan
I took on the AL team after '93
But now that Torre and Mattingly have moved to LA
It makes it so much easier for me
'Cause a fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
Oh, it's hard to understand
It's so hard to understand
A fair weather, a fair weather
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan
4.Don't Call Them Twinkies
Lyricist：Craig Finn, Steven Lawrence Wynn
In 1965, I wasn't quite alive yet
But I'm told they gave the MVP to Zoilo Versalles
Oliva hit the singles and Harmon hit the homers
Mudcat Grant won 20 games and they didn't play in a dome yet
The Dodgers came to Bloomington to play for the World Series
The Twins took the first two, you can even ask Vin Scully
But Sandy Koufax proved to be a bit too much to crack
And the Twins went down in seven but they vowed that they'd be
back
From Nicollet to Hennepin, from St. Paul to St. Cloud
The Minnesota Twins are making Minnesotans proud
And we don't buy our titles so there are summers where we stink
But these are grown men, these are heroes
Please don't call them Twinkies
In the fall of 87, I was pretty much in heaven
I got my license and a girlfriend and the Twins had won the
pennant
I prayed more in the Dome than I ever did at church
Kirby Puckett had the smile, Kent Hrbek had the smirk
First we tamed the Tigers, then we were dealt the Cards
And they came to the Twin Cities to try to make sense of our
park
It was loud and it was close and it went to seven games
But the Twins took home the title and that sweet music played
From Edina to Duluth, from the south side to downtown
The Minnesota Twins are making Minnesotans proud
So, hey, let's make some noise, come on, wave those Homer
Hankies
These are grown men, well, these are heroes
Please don't call them Twinkies
In 1991, the Twins were once again on top
We faced Atlanta in the Series and they thought that they were
hot
I've never seen nothing so lame as that Fondahawk chop
But we were up against the ropes when Kirby called his shot
And as he ran around the bases, smiling, pumping fists
We all knew that he had won it, though it was only just game six
And the next night, Jack Morris came and made his hometown proud
You should watch it in slow motion, Ron Gant was clearly out
From Mankato up to Brainerd, from Burnsville to Bemidji
Now we're playing outdoor baseball and that's the way it should
be
Raise a toast to Kirby Puckett, raise another to Tom Kelly
These are Minnesota Twins, so let's not call them Twinkies
We've got Justin, we've got Joe, that's enough reason to party
We don't buy our titles and we've still won two World Series
Grab yourself a 3.2 beer, raise a toast to Gardy
These are the Minnesota Twins, so please don't call them
Twinkies
Please don't call them Twinkies, please don't call them Twinkies
From Mankato up to Brainerd, from Burnsville to Bemidji
Now we're playing outdoor baseball and that's the way it should
be
(Please don't call them Twinkies)
Raise a toast to Kirby Puckett, raise another to Tom Kelly
These are Minnesota Twins
(Please don't call them Twinkies)
We've got Justin, we've got Joe, that's enough reason to party
We don't buy our titles and we've still won two World Series
(Please don't call them Twinkies)
Grab yourself a 3.2 beer and raise a toast to Gardy
These are Minnesota Twins
(Please don't call them Twinkies)
5.Chin Music
Lyricist：Steven Lawrence Wynn
High and inside
High and inside
Back in the 50's when Maglie was pitching
He sent a little message now and then
They called him 'The Barber'
'Cause he gave a mighty close shave
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Kept the hitter in his place
Ten years later, Drysdale and Gibson
Took no shit from a hitter who kissing
The inside corner of the plate
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
May the hitter do a figure 8
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Take that hitter for a ride
His best pitchers looked like in tension or passes
The batters, they were trembling in their shoes
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Was all that he needed to use
Hit me
All the kids pitched, like they're under court orders
Getting all cute, painting the corners
The batter stepped out of the box for his spell
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Would served those rookies well
Pitch count, seven men, 5 man rotation
And they still can't do what those guys did
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Separate the men from the kids
Oh, we're gonna get
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
Take that batter for a ride
We're gonna get
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
High and inside
Oh, chin music, a little chin music
You can run but you can't hide
6.Buckner's Bolero
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey
If Bobby Ojeda hadn't raged at Sullivan and Yawkey
And hadn't been traded to the Mets for Calvin Schiraldi
If Oil Can Boyd hadn't been such a nutcase
And Jim Rice had twice taken an easy extra base
If the Red Sox had had a better playoff 4th starter
Instead, Nipper served up a big fat slider to Carter
What would Seaver have done if not for his bum knee？
Would he have taken the ball and exacted revenge on his old
team？
If Gooden had pitched like the real Dr. K
Or Donnie Moore hadn't had that nightmare day
That stuck with him 'til he couldn't take anymore
And turned his own kitchen into a killing floor
And John McNamara, what the hell was he thinking？
Was it him, not the party boy Mets, doing all the drinking？
If he'd hit Baylor for Buckner and yanked the first baseman
For his by-the-book late inning defensive replacement
That ball would have been snagged if it'd ever been hit
And Mookie's last name wouldn't now be '86'
Bob Stanley picked a pretty bad time to uncork a wild pitch
And I'm sure he's still thinking that you could have blocked it,
Rich
Then the tying run might have not been tallied by Mitch
If one play killed the Sox, can you please tell me which？
I guess everything happens for some sort of reason
And there must be a tragic end to every long season
If even one man doesn't do one thing he does
We'd all know Bill Buckner for just what he was
A pretty tough out for the Dodgers, Red Sox and Cubs
Ten thousand at bats and close to three thousand hits
And he stole plenty bases before his legs quit
As tough to walk as he was to strike out
But there's only one play that ever gets talked about
Now some kind of fame lies in being a scapegoat
And if not that, then you're just an historical footnote
And your 22 years playing ball might be forgotten
Maybe Bill Buckner was lucky his luck was so rotten
7.Tony (Boston's Chosen Son)
Lyricist：Steven Lawrence Wynn
Set against the fading Fenway sun
Years since the last pennant had been won
Long since the Bambino had been bought
Boston found the hero it had sought
Tony, our hearts beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son
In August, he was only 22
And there was nothing that he couldn't do
That bastard, Hamilton, threw at his head
Tony dropped, the crowd feared he was dead
Tony, our hearts bleed as one
Tony, what has that pitcher done？
But miracle of miracles
On Lansdowne Street
A comeback and a home run swing
Returning, oh, so sweet
But it was never meant to be
Tony cried 'I cannot see'
His eyes, they fade, the fans, they cried
And at 45, Tony died
Tony, our hearts, they still ring true
Tony, we still remember you
Tony, our hearts, they beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son
8.Ichiro Goes To The Moon
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey
He'll have a seven course meal
That Yumiko, his wife, prepares
And for his second stomach
2 ice cream bars and 6 chocolate eclairs
By day, he builds a spaceship
It's got a periscope and hatch
At night, he might go 5 for 5
With a patented sliding catch
A patented sliding catch
For those who haven't worshiped yet
Must succumb to bowing soon
There'll be nothing left to prove
When Ichiro goes, Ichiro goes to the moon
When Ichiro goes, Ichiro goes to the moon
At age 40, he'll turn to pitching
With a fastball that hits 95
A knuckler that defies gravity
A curve with a 12 to 6 dive
Don't put him on a pedestal
Just treat him with respect
He seeks but his own approval
And earns all that he gets
He earns all that he gets
There'll be another curtain call
A spacesuit in the trophy room
And I won't be surprised at all
When Ichiro goes, Ichiro goes to the moon
When Ichiro goes, Ichiro goes to the moon
When Ichiro goes, Ichiro goes to the moon
9.The Straw That Stirs The Drink
Lyricist：Steven Lawrence Wynn
Everybody talks about the new kid in town
They talk behind his back when he's not around
Well, I'd like to slip in but that's not my style
Let me see how you're feeling 'bout me in a little while
The cities got their blackouts and their Son of Sam
There are superstars and then there's what I am
One of the kind, they made the tabloids just for me
Look out now 'cause there's something that I want you to see
I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
The straw that stirs the drink
I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
You don't even have to think about it
'Cause they're waiting right outside the clubhouse door
Mr. October's got it coming and a little more
The captain, he's a hero, he can't do what I can
The skipper's drunk and beating on the marshmallow man
My swing's so sweet, they could name candy after me
Stick around until October and then we'll see
Well
I'm a card carrying member of Mensa
Got MVP trophies on my credenza
Go ask the Daily News, they'll tell you what I can do
Mr. October's got a little something for you
I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
The straw that stirs the drink
I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
Oh, man, I ain't got time to think about it
Oh, they're waiting right outside the clubhouse door
Mr. October's gonna come up with a little more
Here he comes
Here he comes
Oh, I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
The straw that stirs the drink
I'm the straw
(He's the straw)
Oh, man, you don't even have to think about it
'Cause they're waiting right outside my door
Look out, mama, 'cause I gotta give a little more
Wait until October and then we'll see
You know that October's coming down
Every day of the year
10.Look Out Mom
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey
Denard Span seems a fine young man
Doesn't curse, abuse or litter
And when the Twin City Twins are racking up wins
It all starts with the lead-off hitter
And now a fine young man looks after his clan
And he gets them killer seats by the dug-out
They're having so much fun in the midday sun
But, oh, you gotta be on the lookout
Look out, mom, look out, mom
You better keep your eye on me
But look out, mom, look out, mom
I never want you to be foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
Because the batted ball hurts even that much worse
Than the one that a pitcher throws
They get sprayed all around at the speed of sound
You never know where it's gonna go
Bob Feller threw a fast one and it got plastered
Like a missile to his mother's eye
Just watching her son play and it was even Mother's Day
It could have been the day that she died
But look out, mom, look out, mom
Don't want another casualty
Look out, mom, look out, mom
I never want you to be foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
You might be thinking that the game is dull
Then Manny Mota hits a screaming line drive
Catches poor Alan Fish on the skull
He left the stadium alive but he only lived another five days
So let this be a lesson, when the game is progressing
And you're messing around in the stands
And you've had a few beers and you're bending some ears
Maybe talking 'bout your favorite new bands
You've gotta stay on your toes because everybody knows
That the rock can come fast and hard
Better keep your head up, use a mitt or a cup
Or they'll be carrying you out of the yard
So look out, mom, look out, mom
Don't want another casualty
But look out, son, look out, little one
I never want you to be a foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
11.Pete Rose Way
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey
The Great American ballpark
Where the sun shines all day
Now I'm walking down Riverside
Down to Pete Rose Way
The perfect chaos when he slid
The way he made you pay
Every single thing he did
He did the Pete Rose way
Walk through hell in a gasoline suit
If there's one more game to play
Diving down this boulevard
They call Pete Rose Way
He'd be the first to tell you
How many outs he made
Never said he was the best
But, oh, how hard he played
Ask about the Big Red Machine
Now what would Sparky say？
I guess he'd probably tell you
That they played the Pete Rose way
Walk through hell in a gasoline suit
If there's one more game to play
Diving down this boulevard
They call Pete Rose Way
Oh, Brandon, Bronson and Joey
Oh, Aaron, Johnny and Jay
So many lessons to be learned
Going down the Pete Rose way
Going down the Pete Rose Way
12.Twilight Of My Career
Lyricist：Steven Lawrence Wynn
I work hard, I earn my pay
And I do the best I can
In Boston town, it's sweat and blood
That makes a man a man
But the years are cruel, they take their toll
And they get you on the run
34 and the boss, he said
My time here was done
But it's alright, I'll carry on
I will persevere
They wished me well and they let me go
In the twilight of my career
Spent some time up in Canada
Before I was New York City bounds
They got no time for losers
In that big city town
So I took some chances, I bent some rules
And I made some ugly ties
The fountain of youth becomes a poisoned well
When you fill it up with lies
But it's alright, I'll carry on
Now I'm in the clear
I had to prove them wrong, I guess
In the twilight of my career
In the twilight, you'll do some things
You would never do again
But you were just a young man then
Now my time is done and no one
Dares to speak my name
Forgotten, a pariah
I'm a ghost that walks this game
I meant no wrong but wrong I've done
It's easy to forget
You sell your soul piece by piece
Until there's nothing left
But it's alright, I'll carry on
I will persevere
I had to prove them wrong, I guess
In the twilight of my
In the twilight of my
In the twilight of my career
13.Here Lies Carl Mays
Lyricist：Scott Lewis Mc Caughey
It's so peaceful here in the Riverview Graveyard
And sometimes it felt that way out in the green ball field
And life can take a turn right before your eyes
And you know you'll never be the same again
Chappy was a favorite son, called a 'Prince' by everyone
But he couldn't hit me a lick and he'd tell you so
When he squared to one again, I submarined it up and then
He was leaning out over the plate and he just froze
I wasn't trying to hurt anyone
But now it's all so said and done
And I wish that killer pitch never left my hand
It was never far from my mind but the next year I went 27 and 9
Hit 343 and we won the Yank's first flag
Still people didn't like me, accused me of being on the tick in
the Series
I pitched three complete games with an ERA of 1.73
In '28, Ray's wife died, suspected it was suicide
And the daughter he never saw passed in '29
And the very ball I threw that day, 30 years later, it was put
into play
Took a bad hop and smashed some poor kid in the eye
I wasn't trying to hurt anyone
But now it's all so said and done
And I wish that killer pitch never left my hand
Now it's so peaceful here in the Riverview Graveyard
And sometimes it felt that way out in the green ball field
And life can take a turn right before your eyes
And you know you'll never be the same again
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