Albert, they all talk about you,
How with one mighty swing
You have changed destiny —
But have you really?

After all, your overhyped foe
Was fading, intimidated, shaky;
For God’s sake, who puts Edmonds
On base with you on deck?

With two outs, two on, one strike,
Scientists have determined,
You already had a 7.3% chance
To win the game with the next pitch.

Was it really your powerful swing
That caused your moonshot?
Is it not rather that ball and bat
Were both part of a larger pattern?

Much is written about you, Albert,
But truly little is known.
Will the accolades matter
If your team loses tonight?

Will not all of our exploits
Swoon like pale blue orchid fields
Under the withering drench
Of the monsoons of August?

Having once saved the world,
You must do it again and again;
Vishnu knows the rest of the lineup
Sucks like a Dyson vacuum cleaner.

If you succeed, do not let crowds
Sway you, Albert, from the truth.
No spiritual credit accrues
From all your dingers.

And if you fail, do not rend garments
Or gnash your terrible teeth!
Smile bravely, and have faith
In next year, and Walt Jocketty.

Kabir says, glory is transitory.
Play instead for inner pride,
Albert, and play for the 500 dinars
Kabir has wagered on you!

Kabir was a 15th century Indian mystic and seer, and a huge fan of the National League. His baseball poetry is available in a new translation by Vijay Chaganta.