Thursday, November 3, 2011

Marsby in March

Look for this logo to start popping up around town in coming months. It's the logo for my new play, debuting in March at the Civic Center. Congrats to graphics artist Tamaralee Shutt  on a great job!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Tim Green at the Bat



Green's books: Always on point

The Outlook wasn't brilliant
For the Skaneateles 11 that day.
The council voted unanimously
To not let the Lakers play.

It took a quick decision 
By a learned judge.
To get the Lakers on the field,
Despite the ethics smudge.
 
The townsfolk, they debated,
Called the media unfair.
But Tim Green loves attention,
Hence his blow-dried hair.

He led his team to victory,
That cold October day.
His favorite play was "72 Green",
Things always go his way.


A lawyer/football phenom,
Success just seemed to flow.
He even found his bio-Mom,
Then hosted a TV show. 


Author, commentator, philanthropist.
Valedictorian, senior class.
A real-live local Renaissance Man,
 Or just an arrogant a---?



The three women on the School Board,
They'd feared what Tim Green meant.
They voted for the candidate,
Who lacked a p.r. bent.


Four star-struck males swung the vote.
The team began to win.
There was a brand-new quarterback:
The coach's next of kin.

It was shaping up like always, 
A new Tim Green best-seller,
About a brave and handsome coach,
a selfless, friendly feller.

Who shows a Rustbelt hellhole,
(Some poetic license there),
The path to pride and dignity,
That everyone can share.

But rumors would not dissipate
As players moved to town.
Some of them stood 6-foot-six
and weighed 400 pounds

Some of them were quick as cats,
and jumped like kangaroos.
And some could cover 40 yards,
In under 4.2.

"How could it be?"
Some skeptics asked,
That things could change so fast?
"How could the talent be so deep,
When usually we're last."

An investigation showed the truth:
Recruitment had occurred.
Coach Tim Green, well, he denied it,
But carefully chose his words.

He sounded like the lawyer,
Which you'll recall he is,
Said he'd not been implicated,
Yet exoneration would be his.

Smart money held he'd surely win, 
and have the final chortle.
Setbacks happen not to Tim:
They happen to mere mortals.

Soon the slate would get wiped clean,
The season would be saved
When your jersey says "Tim Green",
The rules for you are waived

But when the judge returned to work
 To make a final ruling
It came to pass the judge himself 
Was in no mood for fooling.

He ruled against the football team,
Their season now is done.
Sometimes, I guess, it's not so cool
To be the coach's son.
 
The glint is gone from Tim Green's eye,
The swagger from his gait.
Skaneatles now must accept: 
Their coach is second-rate.

Oh, somewhere in some other town,
 The sun is shining bright.
The string quartet is playing somewhere, 
 And somewhere fishes bite.

And somewhere men are laughing,
 and children run and chase.
But there is no joy in Skaneateles. 
Tim Green lost his case.


 








 






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