The List: An ode to the plight of sports’ super villains

Published 12:00 am Sunday, July 22, 2007

I thought I’d try something different this week. I’m writing “The List” entirely in poem form.

Watch out, Shakespeare. There’s a new Bard in town.

And now my comrades, you shall recline

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And consent to hear a tale of mine.

It reeks of misdeeds and woeful mire

And absurdity that seems never to tire …

From the South, the prince of a three-letter town

Hangs his head and wears a dismal frown.

It is said his crime of choice is the death of beasts

And the uproar from his kingdom has yet to cease.

Though fast and strong and wonderful to behold,

Sir Vick’s prison may wait once his story unfolds.

And what a shame to think such talent marred

By chains, sirens, cement and bars.

To the West and lo! Observe Sir Bonds’ dismay …

No comfort to be found along his grand bay.

As history lurks behind shadows in Cooperstown’s halls,

Many wish The Slugger in that water instead of balls.

And no love from the king affectionately known as “Bud,”

Though he makes a fortune off his dark knight’s blood.

As cheers and wails from the throng persist

The antihero’s import in their game is missed.

To the North, and the continent’s most exciting game

Is met with shock and turmoil and wrapped in shame.

Sir Donaghy, with basketball’s trust thrown at his feet

Found financial windfall through supreme deceit.

Then, “Justice, justice!” cried the fans as they wailed and yearned.

“And it shall be delivered,” so were the words of King Stern.

And long after a mighty judge drops his gavel,

Still no judgement is made as to what is a “travel.”

Ahh yes, to the East! A dictator, despite his many tries,

Sees a dynasty crumbling before his very eyes.

“The Boss,” he is called, his temperament a cauldron of rage,

Has bent to expansion, parity and his own old age.

They once called the king’s liege, Sir A-Rod, pitiful and weak.

Now his valiant efforts render enemies unable to speak.

Alas, the dynasty’s nemesis on the Harbor, once a town forlorn,

Finds comfort in the force of a Red Stocking storm.

Where is the hope for those with heavy heads?

What ocean vast enough once tears are shed?

Do we wait in vain while heroes sleep?

Or are there good-hearted men who see good things to reap?

George L. Jones is sports editor of The Selma Times-Journal. He can be reached at (334) 410-1744 or