Was a week in December and all through the hotel
Every team’s personnel was stirring, even Pedro Grifol;
Not being able to choose his own staff, he seemed not to care,
Giving platitude after platitude, it seemed too much to bear.
But from the front door, there arose no clatter,
It was Rick Hahn sneaking in, trying not to matter;
Caught by a reporter, not knowing what to do,
He decided to ramble on, addressing me and you.
‘We will not spend, but trades is where we will look,
like when I play chess and trade my queen for a rook;
Judge, Turner, Verlander, and deGrom,
None of these guys will play for the White Sox or my name’s not Rick Hahn!’
‘I already signed Clevinger,’ he said as he tried to run away,
And still have a fan favorite to play second base, his name, Leury.
‘I won’t talk about ongoing negotiations’ as he faded from sight
‘But make sure to buy season tickets, and have a good night!’
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