The Agony of Being an Expos Fan

It's like having your fines innocent hopes shattered, your heart

ground to dust. Your pancreas has been removed and now you must eat pure sugar.

You have many questions that will always remain

unanswered. What was the cosmic attraction between Ron

Leflore, Tim Raines, Terry Francona and the left field wall?

Who stole Steve Rogers' fastball? Was Rodney SAcott the finger

in the dyke? Did Bill Lee put a macrobiotic curse on the team?

Was John McHale in league with the devil. Whatever

happened to the team of the eighties? (you suspect it was

traded or sold down the river)

You watch the current team play, and sigh. You miss Al Oliver, Gary Carter, Scott Sanderson, the Spaceman; you miss what never will be. In your worst nightmares Rick

Monday's homer just clears the fence. You wish Charles

Bronfman would sell the team, or put it out of its misery

It's like watching John Keats not die, and then he goes on

to become a second-rate hack somehow.

Ken Norris

Ken Norris is one of the Vehicule Poets and its only baseball fan.